Oyster Shells
by Micah Debrink
Summary: Mack is a samurott, a ruthless serial trainer killer. He has had twelve trainers in his life. All are dead. Eleven were brutally murdered by him. Other humans have been killed by him too. How could a pokémon ever become so cruel and heartless? And will he ever be rid of his murderous tendencies? Read his own memoirs here. Rated M for graphic violence, language, and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

(Well this is it! I can't believe it! My first real, novel-length fic! I've spent over a year on it, and although I'd love to say it's perfect…it's not. I'm just starting out with real novel-length stuff, so I'd love for you tell me what you think, even if you think it's utter crap…better than staying silent! Without further ado, on with the story!)

(Special thanks to KeepItM and Nigel Yearning for their invaluable beta assistance. Be sure to check their stories as well. I have done several rewrites of this work; **this is the final work.** )

( **Disclaimer:** Contains strong language and graphic violence. Discretion is advised. I do not condone or support any of the illicit/immoral acts mentioned in the story. Pokémon and its trademarked characters/names do not belong to me.)

* * *

 _Oyster Shells_

by Micah Debrink

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Chapter 1

Well, hello there. I'm a samurott, the name's Mack. I've had about twelve trainers thus far. They've been all very nice to me and given me everything I want, with a little coercing that's all. The last one I had was total pleasure. Felt so great when she touched me. She was obviously impressed at my power, but I was more impressed at her power, to captivate. She was one of the best games I've played.

How long has it been since I actually decided to sit at a table a write about my thoughts? There are way too few blank sheets in my notebook. Too much of my time occupied with trainers and my assigned activities. They want me for my power. I can deliver the most badass Hydro Pump you'll ever experience. I've got one page for every opponent I've knocked out. I'd be killing trees if I didn't put these sheets of paper to use soon.

I grew up in the wild, right around Undella Town. I still remember those days as an oshawott. What if he'd been writing this? Or sitting right beside me, watching me write this? The young oshawott: what'd he tell me? _Why did you do that? That's so mean!_ Heh. Maybe he'd puke. Maybe his face would cringe in revulsion of his older self. Maybe he'd just scurry away from me. Oshawott would just leave me. That fucking bastard would disown me, for Arceus sake! Yes, I'm a self-hater. I can't see that happen. Where did the years go? Where did Oshawott go? "Oshawott is trapped. I needed to free Oshawott. Show him the great sights of the world, the great adventure I have experienced."

Because people say I have done something despicable, I plead you, to listen to me with open ears, and do not let them dissuade you. They say I have no profundity in me. They say I was a ruthless serial killer, the lowliest of the already-lowliest pokémon. That I should be euthanized like all the other humans. The newspapers give me the title, "Pokémon Killer, On the Loose: 10 Trainers Dead." What I have accomplished…is more valuable. It's not worth the P200 Sunday paper headline. It's an adventure, a realization, vices expressed out; maybe all of the above. What you will read is not the prettiest story you have read. But do all great events in history have to have pretty pasts? Just look at the wars. Victory is celebrated at its dusk, but in its shining day, it claims many lives.

I call myself Mack. Mack, the brave army general. Four shining stars. My weapon of choice. Not my built-in seamitar, no. I prefer something wielder. A long sharp katana, if I can get my hands on it. The mystique of human weaponry just fascinates me. What power do humans have without their brains? Nothing. What power do I have with my attacks? Not as much as the humans. That's the thing. Brains, intelligence, can solve everything.

That's why I've been trying to become more like a human. I've since learned how to read, write, and speak human language. And I've experimented with some of their more peculiar habits. One in particular that of "the player." There's a single great power with this behavior. It brings out the pokémon in humans, brings them to my level so I can trap them more easily. And being a player full-time has its perks. The minute you lose the game, no worries. You just find and put in a new game until you lose that one. But the games are always coming, like a free subscription. Didn't I tell these humans are a clever bunch? Who cares where the old games end up? They're tired, old, broken after hard play, who wants them anymore? They're probably in some dump, some junkyard. Maybe I should be the bulldozer, plowing the trash into the incinerator. I'm trying to forget it all, hoping it'd be as easy as letting it go in a ball of flames. But the games of past, as they burn, will always leave some indelible fume, some mark on you.

Having been through so much in life, let's say I'd become bit jaded. My standards were raised so high I couldn't reach it by standing on hind legs with my seamitar clutched. Unfulfilled goals and an empty, despondent heart. But then he introduced me to the katana. It felt so much lighter and comfortable than my own sword. It was longer, and reached further up, only pushing the bar higher. All twelve of them…each one was a stepping stool so I could once more reach that new, higher standard I set for myself. A stack of stepping stools, one on top of the other. One, two three. But then after, eleven, twelve, you realize you're wobbly. How many stepping stools are you perched on? How high up are you? And then you ask yourself: is this really the standard you need, or even truly want? The one you want to uphold on yourself and others? You look below to the ground, the time where there were no stepping stools, no katana. Just you and your Arceus-given seamitar. It's absolutely frightening up here.

You kinda want to go back to that lower, simpler place. When nothing had to be exactly to a T. You were just exploring, trying to find what suits you, what fits you perfectly. But then you forgot to account for your growth. The suit doesn't fit you anymore. It's itchy and tight now. You struggle to get it off, ruining that perfect suit and it's perfect folds and creases. And in the midst of struggle, you tumble back down to the floor, having been perched up precariously on all those stepping stools. You hit bottom. Hard. And you meet your old friends. The oysters: those shitty bottom feeders. My body languishes from the tumble, the Great Fall. I think I can see those oysters again. I have a concussion right now. So I'll try to this with as much lucidity as I can.

I'm reflecting on what I've done. A katana is a powerful weapon of destruction. I keep mine sharp so it is also intelligent. Its intelligence has slain number twelve. I see my reflection in the pool of blood gushing out of my trainer, flowing like a slow river into the storm drain. I'm satisfied that the rain will wash away this horror; this bottom-feeder filth. There's another dream above me, ripened from years of curiosity, learning, and wisdom. I've brought eleven lovely humans to their demise. Just because I'm a pokémon, they say, doesn't mean I should be treated differently. They call me a cold-blooded killer. But I am a vampire in a sense. I've fed off these warm-blooded bodies that have trained me. I've fed off some of their courage, their strength, their morals. I think I'm a little braver now. I'm brave enough to put this all down on paper, to say these souls did not die in vain. I beg you to see my side, the side of wisdom. They will never see or understand me: only the wise can see the wise. Only the ones who value the pearl will appreciate it truly. I hope you are the persnickety sort of gem expert.

Now it's all over, maybe there are some things I should have done with her: trainer number twelve. There're some things I've always wanted to try.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, you're at chapter 2...that's a sign! Hope you enjoy it so far, and be sure to comment on your thoughts!

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SARA: TRAINER #12

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Chapter 2

"Are you okay, Mack?"

I walked beside my latest trainer. We'd had a long day training with wild pokémon in the tall grass. It was nice to have a little break. Sara, that's her name, let me open up the door and let her in, like a real gentleman. It's important to impress your prey with intellect and deportment as much as raw power.

Sara had a healthy, trim body, at the time she was about twenty-three - at least that's what her ID card I took from her said. She was quite well off, as we lived in a moderate-sized house around Nuvema. She wanted to be close to her father, who apparently was some big-shot in Professor Juniper's research lab. A pretty rich guy, I've heard. An academic through and through, she was, like the rest of her family. She could answer any question you gave her regarding pokémon ecology and anatomy. "What type of adaptation is a snivy's slender, thin figure?" "Why do particular pokémon live near saltwater rather than freshwater?" These nitty-gritty questions she'd be so comfortable with.

But I think academic minds have a weakness. They say education opens the mind. I went on my own educational journey, learning the human language. Facts restrict you. It's like when you're young, you're filled with curiosity, uncertainty. You think there must be, oh, many many answers to a question. And then you learn, The Facts. And then there's only so many answers or one answer. I hated Sara for that. Just cause she knew where the major muscle group in a Hoenn-variety ratata was, she just disrespected the dumb ones. Okay, she didn't scold them, no, nor rebuke them. She'd treat them like a little baby. "Oh, that's so cute." "Isn't he sweet?" She'd say in so many words.

The house was quite modest—only about three bedrooms—but she reserved a room for me where I could stay outside of my pokéball. I was her only pokémon, for all my trainers it's been that way. I am my own powerful team of six, at least I convince my potential trainers that. I lay on my bed, nicely elevated from the filthy carpet. The sheets were nice and soft, welcoming with a familiar scent to greet you. It reminded you of home. Too much of home. These should be washed soon. The room had some light, the glass doors opened up to Sara's backyard. I had a mini-fridge underneath the flat-screen TV, the perfect to place to stock some oysters to get through the night. That was one good thing about her: she was quick to notice my likes and dislikes. She had a particular way to it. She'd say "You like this?" with this huge ass smile painted on her face.

"Samu…!" I'd chant in my own speak.

"Yes? Here you go, buddy!"

Score! One point for the player. That was one of the high points of the experiment.

Dinner was a definite high point. She fed me my favorite platter, two dozen oysters chilled over ice. Okay, I'm not the only samurott who loves oysters, but do you expect me to be an outlier here? I only like them raw; and I don't give a fuck about parasites, don't ask. Mind's filthy enough as it is. Oysters are like raw energy. I like raw stuff. Doesn't need to be processed, covered up, seared over the grill. Just pick it fresh from the wild. It's like when I used to go berry foraging. So many trees, ripe for the picking. As the player, I had the sweetest, reddest fruits of all the forest. Pluck me if you dare.

Sara made something lighter for herself; from what I gathered she was watching her waistline. A few green vegetables and steamed rice, that was all. Hardly any salt, she was watching her sodium. Whatever there was, she was watching it, for Arceus sake. I hope she wasn't looking back at me when I stared with glazed eyes at that young woman, eating that bland plate voraciously, like it was her last meal. There was something about her engrossed in that meal that set well with me. For once she was engrossed in something else; her eyes weren't peeled over me and my needs. It was nice to just gaze at her in the wild, to let my eyes droop a little, sink into her presence. I don't like to be fawned. I'll do the fawning, the bootlicking. Especially the bootlicking.

"What're you staring for, Mack?" She wasn't mad at me or anything. Her head was cocked to side, that Pan-Am grin on her face again.

"Samu…Samu…" I spoke some gibberish in my language.

"Well, tell me if you want more oysters, okay my little sea otter?" She'd always squeal at the end of her sentence, like all those slutty teenage girls on the street toting shopping bags. You know the bunch. I wished she'd be squealing for a different reason, though. A very pleasing reason. Oooh. I was getting warm just thinking about it.

I'd had enough, and I just quietly shuffled out of the dining room. She didn't care about table manners. If you acted like a baby, like her pet, she wouldn't care about if you use the right fork for this food and all that shit. Everything you did was always her fault, because she was liable for you. I guess that made Sara quite an enjoyable trainer. All the other trainers either made me work for my keep or gave me nothing as a token of appreciation, or both. This "Pokémon Master" ideology? Just scrap it, do me a favor. This is not the kind of friendship the player seeks. Me and Sara, we'd get along better than that. _I hope._

"Is being 'the player' the right thing for me?" I spoke into the air, lying on my bed that night, knowing that my special friend is listening close by. He's still an oshawott, but I know he'd have wise words to tell me right now. _Be brave, be courageous. Do what your first trainer, Henry, taught you._ I was left with that lingering thought as I drifted to sleep.

* * *

The next morning I was woken by this rumbling noise, something I'd never heard before. Not like any pokémon, no. The sound of grinding metal with a loud roar. I heard it coming from outside, where Sara was operating a peculiar-looking metal contraption with four wheels and an inner compartment with two tightly-packed seats.

"How do you like it? My new sports car!" Before then, I really didn't know Sara was a motor enthusiast. But I guess what does one do with old money but to rejuvenate it in a new car? Her father probably had enough money to buy ten of those.

Sports car. That's a new term to add to my vocabulary.

"Samu! Samu!" I pleaded. I took a closer look at the contraption, leering at its form; imagining the workings of the 700 horsepower engine. The clinking and clanking of the pistons, sparks exploding from the spark plugs; it's the sparks flying between my shining metal armor and her aluminum-clad vehicle. The sound of grinding, metal against metal, sparks flying with friction. I'm excited. This could take our relationship to new heights.

"Are you okay, Mack? You must be hungry. Sorry about that. Come inside, I'll fix you some oysters."

I still stared out the window to see that bright red auto parked in the driveway as I clawed into some more raw oysters. That's pretty unusual. Usually I'm really engrossed in my eating more than anything. Maybe I'm being played as well. Couldn't blame them, aren't I just irresistible?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He was fierce. Had this intimidating glare in his pearly eyes, I'll tell you that. His lustrous coat was only outshone by his bright, piercing eyes of determination. He was toned, chinked out by a marvelous sculptor, molding rock-solid muscle into a perfect, realistic form, even to the very last curve and groove in his very intelligent brain. He was ready for battle. I took a sharp breath in. He did the same. Looking into a mirror is one of my favorite things to do. I must do this in private of course. As the player, I can't have Sara think of me as vain.

"Come on, Mack!" I heard Sara calling from down the hallway. She was going to battle with her "mentor," an uncle of hers who supposedly won many awards as a pokémon trainer.

When we got to the battle area, an open field in the outskirts of town, I suddenly got some chills down my spine. He had this floatzel with this sly grin on his face. And his trainer...it was like looking at twins. _Dumb pokémon._ You see, without intelligence and knowledge, you slump down to that level of blind compliance. When the pokémon is exactly like the trainer, it's a bad berry in so many words.

"Hey, Uncle Oscar!" Sara went over to greet him, with that slutty squeal at the end of her speech again. "How have you been?" Oscar fit the look of an experienced trainer: a light tan (from days out in the sun), dark rimmed glasses (showing his studiousness in pokémon knowledge), and an orange plaid button-down shirt that didn't seem washed for several weeks (I guess as an itinerant trainer, access to laundry facilities is limited), and those eyes...partially saying "I'm determined to win and succeed", partially saying "I'ma kill you and let you bleed like the little inexperienced fuck you are".

"Oh, just fine." Oscar replied to Sarah. "I went on a trainers' retreat in Sinnoh a couple months back. Had a great time with some experienced trainers. That's where I just captured Floatzel; he's grown to be one of the more powerful on my team."

 _Ughh._ That sent more shivers down my spine. I absolutely detest the word "captured." I refuse to be put in a cage with steel bars around it (in a figurative sense of course), to be captured by a victorious party. Being called…not a name, but an identification; like if I called Sara "Human." " _Floatzel."_ I quietly spit some oyster grit at the uncle's feet. Make his big painful words easier to swallow.

Sara did capture me with a pokéball at first. I could have easily resisted, but I thought she'd be a good trainer, so I let her take me in to make her happy. She must have felt so accomplished with herself that day. An unspoken compliment to her sweet eyes and perfectly formed face, but maybe it's all just a slutty exterior.

The battle was about to begin. I could tell this wouldn't be an easy opponent.

"Mack! Use Razor Shell!" I so complied.

"Dodge it!" He was quite speedy, and while Razor Shell's pretty accurate, it only managed to barely graze his fur coat as he dived away from it. A thin stream of blood trickled out where I managed to hit him. "Floatzel! Whirlpool!"

It wasn't too bad, I guess. The strongest thing is probably my defense power, with my sturdy figure and metal-clad armor. I like whirlpools. How they just swirl, and swirl, and just take in you in. I love that spiraling, sinking feeling. Maybe that's just right now. I guess you have to grow to appreciate spiraling down, considering the current situation I'm in.

"Pull out your seamitar!" Sara called out. I prepared to dive in and slash the opponent. Shit. I missed. That was one speedy pokémon. He's just trying to evade everything. _Doesn't dare to face me, that little fuck._

Sara's uncle decided to speak. "Floatzel also used Agility, to increase his reflexes. Go, use Whirlpool, again!"

I expected something like that. I guess I could've withstood it. But somehow, it was harder this time. I struggled a little with my footing. I managed to recover, but I was kinda tired. What an underhanded strategy. Oh, that Oscar had an inimical face, like his floatzel. It's this human intelligence and the deception they craft with it. They have no respect for simple things. The honest, straight-willed being.

"Mack! Water Gun!" I figured I'd impress her and use Hydro Pump instead. I figured I had just enough strength to do that, and it'd knock out the opponent in one fell swoop.

I slumped to the ground like a total drunk idiot. I fainted. So yeah, that failed. The little bastard dodged me. It's so hard to get a good shot with this move. And in all the mist of water, the critter went and grabbed me from behind, and I ended up drenching myself. So unscrupulous, so filthy. I used the little energy I had to spit some oyster grit on the sea weasel pokémon.

"Good job, Mack." She brought me back into the pokéball to recover.

Oscar, his dark-rimmed glasses and orange shirt now drenched from water splattering about, went over to comfort her niece. "Don't be so down, Sara. You did a great job, considering the circumstances. My floatzel was still pretty damaged by samurott's final blow."

Ugh. "Damaged." Like "damaged goods". Just fill in his ass crack and it'll all be fine. He won't have a will of his own then.

"Here, let me give you some advice, Sara. You are just using all physical moves, Sara. Don't just focus on how it'll hurt the opponent on the outside, but on the inside. To become a good trainer, you need strategy and wits, not just raw power."

The man pities the "dumb." Those inferior, "simple-minded" people. What's wrong with raw power? Oysters taste best uncooked. Okay, I said human ingenuity can solve anything. But did I ever say morally, kindly?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Uncle Oscar!" She started bawling her eyes out.

Her uncle reached to hug her. "Don't worry, about it, Sara. You'll get stronger and stronger every day."

Ughh. Freeing my tightly clenched teeth for a moment, I spat out some more oyster grit while inside the pokéball. I've never believed in motivational speakers. They only know to move their stupid mouths. They don't give their pokémon nicknames. They only acknowledge the trainer. They have that circuitous, meandering strategy with their battle. Just out with it, already! Why can't it just be…the way it is, unadulterated, uncensored? Those clever bitches always try to hold back or be cunning with their thoughts. But I'm not "clever," I'm "intelligent."

"It'll be okay." I saw how he hugged his niece: my trainer. _Hands above there, damn it!_ You can always tell by their personality. They only know to use their stupid mouths like total losers. They don't give their pokémon nicknames. They only dare to liberate the trainer. They have that annoying sly strategy with their partners. _Yes, for I am not just the player,_ I thought. _I am the daring ship captain running the helm of this experiment. I am the valiant general running an army of knights who protect my lady—oh shit. This is not good. What is this? I am trying to be the player._ That's the worst danger as a player: you can't fall in so deep that the urges return. The bodily urges that betray your mind's intentions. _What is this? I almost feel like the way I was with the first one. Him. This experiment isn't working as well as I thought it would._

"Well, I'm gonna go get changed for the beach party today!" Sara squealed out, and brought me home in the pokéball to clean up and get dressed. That's awesome! I love the beach! Help me get my mind off Sara, and Mr. Player right here on the horned side of my brain.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Today, my horned brain started off in full swing, or at least I feel so in hindsight. Complex human pleasures were the name of the game. The stuffed up socialite, cocktail sipping, weather chatting. It was a nice venue: a gazebo facing the shore, at the fringe of the trees. Tough game for a player, huh. I guess as an academic's daughter Sara had lots of connections to people—namely the entire university. The place was a bustling hive of activity; a jolly hive. Jolly, but stuffed up in those confined honeycombs, like a cluster of combee.

I heard the sizzling of raw meat and vegetables on the grill, but I was waiting for something else to quench that appetite of mine. I snapped up from my spot on the floor after hearing that sound of fresh oysters thrown out on the table. Here we go. I didn't have a katana, but my seamitar worked just fine for shucking the oysters. The humans used their own tools. I only slurped down about fifteen or so—the shucking part slows you down—when a little idea hit my head. You see, I thought, if I just shuck them all at once and get that part over with, I can eat them at a much faster rate. Get it all over with, quickly and efficiently, no need to switch back and forth between eating and shucking, no need to take a complicated path. You see, even these clever humans never figured it out.

"Oh, Arceus, look what I found!" A man noshing on oysters suddenly shot up. I saw that look on his face, the glow in his eyes. I'd recognize it anywhere. He found a pearl.

A cluster of people began gathering to view the little gem. I didn't join the crowd, I'm a bit "jaded." I myself have found a few pearls before, having devoured more oysters than you could count, but none really amazed me more than that one pearl: the largest, the greatest of them all. I stared at my reflection in the punch bowl. Two ruby red pearls stared back at me.

I guess you could call me Mr. Congeniality at that time. I was kind of like a one-way mirror. I can see you, but instead of me you see yourself. I am you. People love looking at themselves more than anyone else, those fucking narcissists. I could get along with others quite well while still hiding on the transparent side of the one mirror: the dark side. You know, it was always funny, it was like they were so unaware that they couldn't see behind that façade, that is really their own sorry face. The magic of the one-way mirror. It's one of the characteristics of the player. You need to get a good base of people to choose from.

I decided to speak English just for the heck of it. I made sure to pick someone who Sara likely didn't know. My trainer could never discover my polyglot abilities. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"Oh, hello." He scanned my body for a little bit, maybe a little shocked at my presence.

"Erm, I don't think I caught you name."

"It's Otto. Erm, nice to meet you." He was tallish, wearing the stereotypical dress of the wealthy scholar: fair-skinned, thin, tired glasses, and a tailored dark brown suit fading in the summer heat. A suit like that could never fit me. I change so much during the course of the day, I'd never use it much. It's that damn horned side. It's scarring those wonderfully-carved grooves of my brain.

"So tell me," he asked, "…how did you learn to speak English?"

"I went to a special school. They taught us everything." That was a lie. "How did you learn English?"

He chuckled. "That's a rather odd question to ask. Erm...I went to preschool, I guess."

"Then we have something in common. We both went to school." I chuckled. This one-way mirror works perfectly.

"Do you live on your own…" He chuckled a little at that prospect. Couldn't imagine me living as a civilized human being, could he? He's too clever, such a smart aleck.

"I do, actually."

I could see his eyebrows go up.

"Small log cabin in the woods. It's quite simple, living there, you know. Chop all my firewood, be self-sufficient, enjoy leisure activities."

I gave him the first proper house I lived in. The time I was with . . . Him. That time of my life, it was the best image, the best feeling I could put forth to impress others. "What about you?"

"I have a small apartment in Castelia City, but I hope to move out of there soon."

"Do you study in Castelia?" I continued.

"Yes, I'm a graduate student there. Working on my degree."

 _So this guy knows his Facts._ Well anyway, that was my last thought before I saw a glimpse. A bit of clothing, maybe? I'm not sure. But it was her for sure. I saw her, at the gazebo-thing where we were having the party.. _Shit, no!_ I started scrambling for cover, leaving my new pal Otto bewildered. Any place I could find to hide. I think I found a trash can.

That woman appeared. Who invited her to the fucking party? I won't face that woman, I simply won't. She betrayed my trust. I lost my self-security with her. She lost more than that under the covers. She stripped me, in all manners of the word. Of my way to enjoy myself in solitude. Of my confidence. But I think that was temporary. She ripped off that old suit of mine. You can hear the flimsy stitches tearing. It was painful, but it left room for the new suit I wore at the party. You couldn't see this suit—my one-way mirror blocked it from view—but I can tell you it fit perfectly. And then the old villain comes along. You remember that feeling of loss. And suddenly you feel so cold and small in the humming hive of people, an incipient baby oyster clinging for dear life on that rock, hoping "I'm not gonna die. Even though only a few will continue to adulthood, I will be that outlier. And all I can do is just cling onto that rock, just cling on."

"Mack, are you okay, sweetie?" Sara came from behind as I clung to the metal trash can. I probably looked like a total psycho; not that I am anyway. But I felt a little saner with her simple words. I loosened my grip and turned to face my trainer. She was cradling a glass of wine in one hand, her keychain in the other. "Want a sip?" She was always so intelligent with my needs. I took the glass from her and took a healthy swig. Oooh. That had some bite.

I followed her around a bit through the maze of people in the massive pavilion. She stopped and chatted with a few friends of friends of friends, but I think no more than one or two minutes. And then she chanced by this guy. I never met him before.

"Hey, how are you, Matt?" She chuckled, less of a squeal at the end. She sounded more mature.

"I saw the new sports car you got, looks pretty sexy." Matt went closer, giving her a gentle peck at the cheek. "What d'you say, we go for a nice spin?"

"Oh, maybe some other time, Matt." Sara gently pushed him away, just enough so his feelings wouldn't get hurt. "That's all you care about don't you? Money. Assets. Things. You never treated me this well until I got the sports car! You never used to hold doors for me, foot the whole dinner check! That car's better looking than I am, is that what you think!?"

She was a making a bit of a scene: by this time there was a considerable audience.

"No, honey, that's—"

"Oh, stop with all the _honeys!_ Enough of the _extra stuff!"_

That's my Sara to you. Oh, stop it already. Personal attachments can be dangerous, Mack. Look at what happened countless trainers before. You've drank too much, that's what it is, Mack. Be the player. The no-risk life.

"I'll ask my samurott, Mack, to ride with me. Bet he'll appreciate it better than you." She flipped her tone of voice as she turned to me. "Mack, wanna go in the sports car with me?"

"Samu…! Samu!" Some gibberish in my language again.

"Alright, let's go!" Sara exclaims. "See, Matt? That's what you get for treating me that way."

"But I didn't—"

"See you, bitch." She flipped off her now ex-boyfriend and we pushed our way through the flabbergasted crowd.

"Samu, Samu Samu!" I told Matt. Fuck you, pussy. She's my girl now.

Despite her happily allowing me to ride in the car…ultimately I was a pokémon, a dirty pokémon. I could tell she was a bit nervous about me thrashing her brand new car. Why, I guess I could pee on the snivy-skin leather seats, or soak the Castelian-engineered navigation system with a haphazard Water Gun, or worse. After all, I had been drinking considerably, giving her an even more hesitant look as we stood at the door. She cautiously bit her nails, creating a little mess of macerated nail shards on the pavement. Look who's not Little Miss Congeniality. Ha.

Despite her likely disapproval, I snuck in a half-dozen shucked oysters into the car as she finally agreed to let me take a seat on the passenger side. What better than slurping iced, cold water oysters while burning rubber at 150? Instant gratification of hunger, instant gratification of...her need for speed.

Why go faster? To get up there, to get to the front; that's what I realized as I felt the workings of engine pulsate through the inner fibers of my body, and watched the world swoosh by, played at 100 times. I looked into Sara's eyes. The game felt so perfect in my grasp, the player swept off his feet, speeding along. The suit I had donned before had no hold over me anymore. No cover, no thin façade. I hadn't felt that feeling in a long time. The tires grinded through the pavement, the velocity seeping into my spine. Speed was necessary, I thought, to get higher up in the almighty game of life. So high up, you can barely see ground below you. Did I forget about the wobbly stepping stools? Did I forget I could tumble down just as quickly?

* * *

(Thanks for reading so far! Be sure to comment on your thoughts.)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _What is this, Henry? What is this?_

" _This is called a TV show, Mack. We watch shows of things happening on the TV."_

 _Can they see us?_

" _No, they can't. See that brave warrior on the screen? He only sees his opponent. His opponent, the evil villain, only see the brave warrior."_

… _Henry?_

" _Yes?"_

 _Why is the evil villain hurt?_

" _He's bleeding because the brave warrior slashed him with his katana."_

 _What's a katana?_

" _It's a long metal sword used by samurai. It's very sharp and can cut through things."_

 _Like my scalchop!_

" _Yes, but it's even sharper than that, Mack. It's made of metal."_

 _Is metal strong?_

" _Yes, it's very strong."_

… _Henry?_

" _Yes, Mack?"_

 _Why is the evil villain on the ground?_

" _He's in pain, Mack. He's about to die because the brave warrior killed him."_

 _Why did he kill him?_

" _Because…he was hurting the brave warrior and his people. He had evil plans to destroy the brave warrior. He hurt pokémon, just like yourself."_

 _Will pokémon get hurt anymore?_

" _No, Mack. Not anymore, now the brave warrior has won."_

 _I want that katana._

" _You want one? I see…I see your dream, Mack. You are very brave. Let me get you one. Be my brave warrior, will you?"_

 _Oh, thank you! Thank you!_

* * *

"Thank you…thank you…" I mumbled as I woke up from the party before. The blade of sunlight peering through the curtains was a knife to my head (or a katana, for that matter). I guess I had too much to drink. Way too much. I didn't want to wake up. It was a memorable dream of a memorable time. A memorable time with Him: my first trainer. But like everything else sweet smelling to heart, it was just in my head. Reluctantly, I began peeling my body off the mattress and went to check on Sara. _Still asleep._ It was almost noon. I then trudged back to hole up in the bedroom for a while to recover.

Eyes glazed-over, trying to recover snippets of my fading dream, I pulled some chilled oysters out of the mini-fridge and started systematically cracking them open with my seamitar. I was experimenting with a new technique. Takes just three seconds. Slice. Check. Slurp. Is there a pearl? Lay it in the cradle of the shell: that's the only value of the latter. 999,999 times out of a million, you throw those worthless oyster shells down the black abyss of the trash can. Hard. So you break the trash bag. That's where they belong anyway. They're bottom feeders.

I swear, I went through so many oyster shells, I didn't even keep track. Arceus, I hate those oyster shells. They try to fool you with their shiny interior when you only realize they ain't worth shit. They're liars. They put on that façade to look like they're worth your time and attention and then they don't really understand you.

And there's always that bit of sand on the shell's rough exterior. You think you'd be in bliss gulping down that dollop of goodness: the oyster flesh. Then that sand gets on your paws as you pry it open, and paws touch the oyster flesh. You choke a little, you spit out the oyster grit into the shell, then you hurl it into the trash. Give the filthy shell the fucking treatment it deserves.

I downed maybe twenty or thirty oysters when I ran out. "Shit," I mumbled to myself. Normally Sara would go and buy some more for me…but no chance of her getting anytime soon. So I sifted through the phone book a couple minutes and found what I needed.

"Nuvema Seafood Supply Company, how can I help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if I could purchase some oysters from you?" I said over the phone.

"How many, sir?" _Seems my human speech is convincing enough…_

"Erm, let's say...four dozen, in a bag is fine."

"Alright. Erm, we won't get any deliveries today, so it won't be until Tuesday afternoon before it'll get to Nuvema Pier."

 _That's two days from now._ "Erm, I sorry, but I really need these quite urgently. Could you speed up the order somehow? Maybe I can get it by tonight?"

"I'm sorry sir, we won't have any fresh oysters in stock. I could expedite your order for an extra fee, but you won't get it until Monday evening."

"I see, but I really need them, sooner than that."

"Hmm, I'll tell you what. If you'd be willing to stop by the warehouse at dawn tomorrow…you can pay for it at the spot."

"Yes, I think that'll work."

"Can I get a name, sir?"

I gave them a name. "Erm, Henry. Mr. Henry."

"Thank you, Mr. Henry, for your business. You have a nice day."

"Erm, these oysters, they are fresh?"

"Oh, of course." The receptionist was probably used to hearing questions like mine. Nuvema is host to a bunch of persnickety eaters.

"Are you sure?"

"I guarantee it. I promise, we'll get you the best oysters the sea has to offer."

"Indeed, well, thank you." I hung up.

By that time, I'd recovered a little, and I decided to head over to that oshawott's place. I think I've told you about him already. I've known him, practically since I was born. He's smart, cute, intellectual, he's a good friend of mine. I talk to him every night, he helps reflect on my path in life. I think I'll meet him at his place.

* * *

I trudged through some deep woods outside of Nuvema to find Oshawott. I saw him peering through the barbed wire fence circumscribing the chaotic garden of the log cabin he lived in, with his trainer of course. I went up to one of the windows. It was one of those high-up ones, I had to stand on my hind legs to peer through it. I tapped on the window.

I saw a deerling appear at the other side of window. There were security bars over the glass, the tough, forged iron kind. Sort of looks like my surroundings right now. "Yes?"

"Erm, er," I mumbled.

The deerling raised a brow. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Her trainer must be very polite, clever with their words.

"The oshawott, the oshawott that lives here, what's his name?"

"Umm" Now she was getting hesitant. "His name's Sammy. At least that's the name our trainer, Oscar, gave him."

Well, my face tensed up after hearing that name. My hind legs started getting wobbly. Not really from surprise or shock, but fired up from the flame of anger, wobbly from fear. Oscar. Okay, he does give his pokémon nicknames, some of them at least. But I've still got that he uses his mouth too much, and he only respects the trainer, never the pokémon. _That's more than enough for an arrest, Officer. General Mack: four-star General Mack, arrest the bitch! Save the innocent oshawott! Save Sammy, for he has been injured! Liberate him…by whatever means possible!_

"Excuse me, do I know you?" The deerling interrupted my digressing thought.

"Erm, Sammy knows me." I mumbled, just loud enough so she could hear.

"Really? Funny, he never mentioned a samurott as a friend. Maybe I'll ask him later."

"No, no need to ask." I chuckled nervously. "I can assure you, we are mutually acquainted."

A sudden silence.

"What do you want?" The deerling finally asked.

"Can you tell him, er, Sammy, I said hi?"

"Okay…?" She's getting pretty suspicious now. Might as well go all out then.

"Tell him I wanna send him a couple dozen fresh oysters. Around four dozen, in a bag. No charge."

She giggled nervously. "Don't get this the wrong way, who exactly are you?"

"Er, I'm an oyster fisherman. I work for the Nuvema Seafood Supply Company: it's over by the coast."

"Oh! Well...well, I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Do you want me to drop it off the door Monday, or…"

"We might not be home during the day tomorrow. Oscar's taking us training at the Move Tutor. If you just want to leave outside the door…" She pointed her head towards the front door.

"Oh, I guess, but it might not stay fresh for long out in the open."

"Okay. I tell you what. Hold on a sec." That trick always works, especially on gullible, submissive, "trained" pokémon. I saw right through that deerling's demure personality. "Here's a key to the house." She had it clutched in her mouth. "Just drop it off in the fridge, whenever's convenient for you."

"Alright then, I have to go…erm…tell Sammy that it's from 'Mack'. And if there're any bad ones for some reason…say that I'll write X's inside the shells for him." I began walking home, leaving the deerling puzzled with my final words.

"Bye!" I heard her call from a distance. She was one of the obedient, the model-child, underling sort of pokémon. How much respect do I have for them? Before leaving the woods, I went around the house and spit some oyster grit at their doorstep. I should've done more for Sammy. But I think I've lied enough for one day. But I can't let him stay with Oscar. Not Oscar. The cocksucking, trainer-loving Oscar. The oysters will be my Sammy's savior. Maybe he'll find a pearl. I'd be so glad if he did.

* * *

(It only gets more exciting the next chapter...)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I got back home, and Sara greeted me at the door, bawling and saying she was worried sick and all that. I went in for a quick cuddle like a sweet soft toy and her anger was abated. Sara's face wore a puzzled look as I stepped away from a platter of fresh oysters, completely disinterested. I skipped dinner that night. It wasn't that the oysters tasted bad or anything. This knot inside me was jumbling all the flavors the together every time I tried to eat one. So it'd taste like crap. I just complained to Sara of a stomach ache, which was honestly not that far off from the truth. She gave those sad eyes again, and I left her sight as quickly as I could. I didn't want her to get hurt. Yet.

I crawled into the soft sheets of my bed and decided to switch the TV on. That always works. TV has that magic of being able to set my mind at peace, no matter what's plaguing me. Flipping through the channels I finally stopped at this show they were running a marathon for.

It was about this poor man whose luck turned for the worse, and ended up homeless in the streets of the city. He didn't have good clothes, he was dressed in rags and all. So, the story was he was following this young woman, daughter of a well-furnished family, who I guess coddled her considerably. Bet she'd never seen a broken heart, an unfed child, nor the poverty in the alleyways beneath her lavish penthouse apartment. She reminded me of another trainer I maybe should talk about later.

But anyway the truth was, the homeless man had mugged her a couple of times and got her personal info. Not to get any money or anything. It was the only way he could get her attention. If the wealthy heiress were to ever witness heartbreak in her life, it would have been with her boyfriend, who unbeknownst to her wasn't after any more than her wealth. The homeless man hated that, he wanted to help her…but he hesitated, "What will she think of me dressed like this? I could never save her in this garb." So he begged for enough money to get a proper shower and rent a suit…and followed her to the place she and her boyfriend now lived. He peered through a slight crack in the door, and then it was too late. The boyfriend had proposed. She was so happy, tears of joy beaming from her eyes. The homeless man could still have saved her, he could have gone and tackled the man and been a hero to her, but I guess he didn't care, and at the very least she was satisfied, happy with herself and her new companion.

You know, normally the TV works, but this time, it failed. It was too real, too biographical. I don't like drama shows. I switched the TV off after that part. Oscar still continued to cling onto my brain like a parasitic remoraid. It was bleeding, but you couldn't see it. _Light tan. Orange shirt. Dark-rimmed glasses. Light tan. Orange shirt. Dark-rimmed glasses._ I started clawing on the sheets all of a sudden, I don't know why. All I could see when I shut my eyes was Sammy's sweet eyes being salt-cured by that Oscar. I also saw that boyfriend from the TV show. The latter two just laughed in my face, making me nervous, ravaging myself and the sheets even more. I forced myself out of it and faced myself in the reflection of the blank TV screen. I started becoming clammy from the sweat soaked in my skin. The torn sheets draped over me. The teary eyes. Hopelessness. I was that homeless, destitute man. I'm not going to let that gold digger win, I thought. Not like in the TV show. I'm not going to let them salt-cure Sammy either. _Change the course of history, General Mack! Avenge their suffering! Kill the offenders!_ As I was deep in trance, more fresh teeth and claw marks appeared on myself and the tattered sheets. I had an ocean blue coat, covered in smooth red stripes.

* * *

" _You! You there!" I called out._

" _Face me like a real pokémon, you little shit!" I could see his orange coat in the distance. Oscar wasn't anywhere to be seen, but the mere sight of a floatzel in the town was enough for me to take action._

" _Only a coward would run away from me like that...Floatzel. That's your name, isn't it? Only a coward could call a pokémon by their own species name. Well, don't just stare at me like that! Can you talk? If you can, face me! Face me!"_

 _Like a cursed mirror, he didn't move if I didn't move. If I moved, he moved along and further away. His yellow orange coat stared into my eyes, the color matching the shirt of his trainer. Like trainer, like pokémon. Or in this case, like trainer, like pet._

" _Where's your trainer, Floatzel?" I yelled in pokémon speak. Might as well get through the formalities first._

 _He didn't respond. It was like he didn't even hear what I said, or even saw my mouth move to speak. He only answered to his trainer. The deafest pokémon I'd ever heard. Couldn't hear my cry to battle. Couldn't hear the enemy. He only recognized the words from the filthy man's lips: "Attack!" "Attack!"_

 _How terribly exciting that must be._

" _If his trainer were gone, who would Floatzel answer to? Ah, I've had enough of this bullshit. Henry, save me!" I called up above. I can always rely on him to give me his strength._

 _The katana materialized before me, imbued with the soul of my late first trainer, Henry. In a way, we both were fighting, me and Henry._

" _Are you afraid?" I called out, holding the steel blade high. "Are you afraid of this...power?" I didn't even bother to listen for an answer. If they're silent, you always know their answer. He now stared at me more intently, examining my stance and my potential movements._

" _Just look at him," I muttered to myself. All the cowardice of Oscar had rubbed into every cowardly hair on his thin coat, every cowardly fiber of his being, every cowardly move he made. Like trainer, like pet_ — _Oscar, Floatzel. Like trainer, like disciple_ — _Henry, Mack. It was just an ordinary one-on-one battle._

 _I charged, katana in hand._

" _AARGH!"_

" _Never afraid!"_

" _AAARGH!"_

" _You will...never be afraid!"_

" _AAARGH...aaa...aa."_

 _He finally stopped moving. "Now...face me." I moved his head gently._

" _There. That's it. wonderful. Face me with that frozen expression of desperation. How strange. So famillar...yet, somehow, so foreign." For all I knew, he could've been any floatzel roaming about the city. Maybe even wild. A wild floatzel. That finally dares to face me._

" _I have not failed you Henry. Thank you."_

 _You have made me proud._

* * *

I woke up to darkness, meaning I must've turned the lights out. I turned the lights out...on myself. The moon was enough for me too see the stripes of red across my body, but they didn't hurt anymore. I think they were even starting to heal. But not without infecting me with filthy fantasies first. It all seemed scarier being in that room, wrestling with my thoughts and my sheets, invisibly tied down onto the bed for some weird reason, you know the feeling. How crazy can I get, damn it?

By that time, it was already about ten past midnight. I figured I'd go to the warehouse to pick up my oysters early. Make sure my gift to Sammy arrives expediently. I can't sleep any longer in this state anyway. I snuck into Sara's purse lying in the living room unguarded and nabbed the keys to her car. Hearing the rumble in my stomach, I figured I should have the dinner platter of oysters that now sat in the fridge uneaten. I tried one, but it was no good. _Probably a day old, with lots of grit in the flesh_. It was time to move on.

I didn't have any experience driving, but I figured I'd learn as I go. It was going to be a long, tough ride in the sports car, I could tell. I think I revved the engine too loud as I left the driveway. Hope I didn't wake up Sara.

Trouble was, the cars around me were a bit finicky. I'd seen them drive cars in the old racing movies, the one I'd watched with Henry, and I'd thought it'd be cool to swerve along the width of the road. And those guys just honked at me. Would you believe their nerve? I'm only driving like I was told to: get to the front, going at the fastest speed, circumvent any obstacle in your way. _If it only were so simple. If it only could be so simple._

I got to the warehouse by about half-past midnight, with only a dent or two on the side doors; nothing serious. I was the only one sitting there at the parking lot. I'd gotten there early: the first to arrive, the speediest racer. So this I what it feels like to be up at the very front. I've never felt that before, not in this segregated society that we live in. It's rare the pokémon triumphs, above all the humans. _Just me and the moon up at the front. And someday, I'll overtake that as well. My sports car probably can._ How foolish.

I didn't know as many Facts back then, mystery and wonder still fueled the spark in my eyes. I just sat there for awhile, satisfied where I was but bored and lonely as hell. _But wait. Funny, I'm not thinking about Oscar and Sammy anymore. Maybe the sports car, its speed and power…helped me rid myself of thoughts: filthy thoughts._ I checked the interior linings of my mouth. _No more oyster grit inside. Just…clean._

In reflection, I remember a tenet of the university professor, one of Sara's kindred: "Correlation does not equal causation." That couldn't have been truer here: I'd learn the real lesson later, like the slow, trudging turtwig finally catching up to the swift, bounding buneary.

A couple of hours passed, some I spent basking in the cool ocean water, some I spent playing with my seamitar. By 4AM, I was absolutely drained, but my body still snapped to attention when I heard the hum of the first fishing boat pulling into the warehouse's pier.

Someone approached me, and out of some reflex I decided he could not see my face. I hid behind a cargo pallet sitting in the parking lot. I moved to identify his face. Who…why…why is he here? I spasmed.

Oscar held Sammy at his front, gently petting his head. That had an effect on me, a very strong one, could hardly think straight or even see straight, until I felt the trembling come on. Arceus, I recognized that power. It was the warrior, ready for combat. It was my time, uninhibited, uncaring. Just charge! _Plow through the enemy!_ As great as that was, I never felt good when the trembling started. Always this alkaline taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach. But never mind. _Nothing shall stray me from the warrior's trembling! Nothing shall weigh me down!_

Sammy was put in the back of a car, insulated from the terrors the tired old parking lot was about to witness. I lost everything after that. I wielded that seamitar, and I began slashing at Oscar's body. In the heat of the moment, I didn't know why I even started doing that in the first place: I just let my manic arm movements guide me. There were others with him; they were obstacles as well. My claws were plenty sharp and worked just fine for cutting the artery. Oscar, he'd get some special treatment. I watched him bleed out, slowly, his wails of pain were my fuel.

"What…are you…doing…?" I had a vise-like grip on him. He couldn't escape his fate now.

"Tell me Sammy is mine!" I shouted in human speech.

"AAAH!"

"Tell me you want me to have him!" Icy tears flowed out of my eyes.

"AAAH! Mercy, have mercy!" That made me tremble even more. Blood spatter began appearing on my smooth, fresh coat. That made the pit in stomach even heavier as well. But never mind that.

I let my seamitar point press precariously on his lightly tanned skin. "You know, finally I get to hear from you. You alone. And you get to hear from me, not just my trainer. Because my voice needs to heard. Sammy needs to stand up to you as well. Now do me a fucking favor and believe that for me. Tell me Sammy is mine. He belongs with me!"

"Get off…my…chest…can't breathe…" He was wheezing like a tired baby.

"Well, tell me, bitch! Tell me!" Another slash to the related area. "Sammy is mine! Tell me! Sammy is mine! Sammy is mine! Answer me, motherfucker!"

"Sammy is yours! Sammy is yours! Sammy…" His eyes stayed open. His face froze with that look of terror. The blood continued to fountain out from the gashes like the Peeing Boy of Brussels. What a beautiful sculpture it would make. I could hang it on my display, the others can bedeck my hall of trophies as well. A hint of a comforting smile appeared on my face.

The person manning the fishing boat was frantically dialing the police, his hands cold and wet, quivering from terror. He was down with a single slash of the seamitar. Serves you damn right to be afraid. I seized a bag of oysters loaded in boat's cargo hold, threw the cash payment in exchange, lifted those limp bodies on my back; the latter dumped into the ocean for an eternal swim, tied to a heavy brick so they wouldn't be caught swimming in the harbor. Why, according to the sign, you could've been fined up to P20,000 for that.

It was only just about dawn as I casually sauntered away from the shore; my coat speckled with color, oysters taken, the stream of former life leaving its crimson trail as it flowed into the storm drain. Oscar was down. His company: Matt, slash through the heart. That despicable woman I hid from at the party: also there. Her skull fractured from a blow to the head. "There, your father killed you," I mumbled to her as I spit a generous amount of oyster grit on her body.

I'd never killed that many people at one go before. I was pretty damn proud of myself. Hadn't seen so much blood created my power, so many plaintive cries of mercy, so much life drained away, the night finally dawning on their frozen expressions. I gripped my seamitar tightly. Had to make sure it was really me.

I peeked into Oscar's car. Well, speed plays tricks on your mind. It whisks you to the front of the race, leaving you dizzy, incoherent.

Sammy was never there. Oscar never brought him over.

 _Am I going insane? Nah, I'm just a victim of these illusions._ In a sense it felt nice. That the parking lot would be the only witness to this traumatic event. At least it would be for an inexperienced one.

From what I figured, they were part of a search party sent after me after Sara realized I went missing. The revving of the sports car engine woke her. The sports car led to the search. The sports car led to the killing of four people. Speed kills. And if you're not careful, it can kill yourself as well. If I'd left later…Sara wouldn't have had the time to call a search party to hunt after me. If I hadn't been caught up with getting in front of the pack, none of this would have happened.

After quietly driving back Sara's sports car into her garage (to appear as if nothing happened) I returned to the warehouse on foot, driving one of the unmarked delivery trucks parked outside to Matt's place, a couple of houses away from Sara's. I went slowly this time, no rush; the threat has been killed off. I pulled into Matt's driveway and headed back to my trainer's home. Greeting me at the door, iced chai tea latte in one head, Sara cried a while, hugged me for while, repeating the phrases "I've been worried sick" and "Where have you been, my sweetie" and "Don't you ever desert me again". Gradually calming down, she finally let go of me and leaned at the front window, in view of Matt's house.

When she asked about the truck outside Matt's house (probably just out of curiosity, they weren't in a relationship anymore), I drew her a picture: Matt and Oscar had moved to the new top-floor apartments at Mistralton Tower. I think that's the only compliment I've ever given them.

* * *

(Stay tuned for more...)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The trembling hadn't subsided, even after Arceus had taken them. The pit in my stomach was replaced by cold sweat and this uncontrollable fire inside of me that gave me sleepless nights. I really should have stayed home. Maybe allowed Sara to care for me a little. I deserved to be pampered. But I instead found myself at that log cabin again, devoid of Oscar's filthy presence. _Yeah, say it again. Oscar is filthy. Filthy! He deserved everything! Everything!_ I kept that thought in my mind as I began polishing the house key the deerling had given to me with my smooth paws. I'd been leaving Sara's house more and more…bolting in the middle of the night—most of the times without explanation or at least stopping to eat something—peering into the log cabin's clerestory windows. I continued to rub the house key more vigorously as those thoughts came drifting in. I'd at least had some sense to bring the sack of oysters I promised to give to the young oshawott…Sammy, that is. _Stop it! The oysters will spoil in this hot weather!_ By the time it was already mid-afternoon. I stopped compulsively rubbing the key, instead using it to let myself in.

It was so tempting to be quick with my delivery and just head back after placing the bag of oysters in the fridge. But past memories of the consequences of hastiness, rushing forced me to linger a little while. There wasn't a soul in the house. Not a pokéball in sight, either. I sunk into the sofa in the compact living area, trying to avoid the nasty area rug from touching me. Past memories of area rugs controlled my movements as well…like a puppet. My eyes drooped as I envisaged them all having escaped from their prison after finding out their trainer Oscar was finally gone. _After searching in the woods for days…finally they would all find a perfect trainer…he would teach them the power of force, courage, and conviction…no longer would they have to hide under the guises of strategy, trickery, and tactics. And they would all be Liberated by him. They'd at last realize the meaning of…what it was to have a true Trainer._ A smile crept up as I was thinking that. _They'd learn power…power! Look at their faces! Look at them now they found…the perfect Trainer._ Arceus, that made my eyes flame up.

Then rain began to fall outside, slowly extinguishing that flame…it made the sky turn awfully dark. I let myself face the reality of where I was: still in (the late) Oscar's log cabin. I slumped into the sofa even further. _C'mon, Mack, you're a Water type. You can easily head back to Sara's in the rain._ But I still lingered a while. _Maybe I'll get up and have an oyster._ By the entrance, there was a small device taped to the wall, with a flashing orange light. _A Pokégear, I think I've seen these before._ "One unread message", it said on the screen. I pressed a button. "first message," I heard. "Received at July 15, 10:37am." Just yesterday.

"Hello, Sammy, Deerling, Floatzel, this is Oscar here, your trainer. It appears my niece, Sara, called me and said her samurott, Mack, had gone missing, so I'm going out to search for him. I'll be around Nuvema Town looking for him. Sara said she'd stay at home in case he ran back there. I thought of taking you along, but you're so tired from your training already; you all deserve some rest. Do not follow me, it could be dangerous. Just stay inside and you'll be fine. I might be away for awhile; if I don't get home by afternoon, I've asked my son to come pick you up and take care of you all. Don't worry, I'll be back."

"End of message." I stopped to take a breath. A hint of mustiness from the rain. I decided.

 _Beep._ "Message erased."

I continued playing with the buttons, hoping it'd get me what I need. Henry had taught how to use human tools, like the katana.

"Record message," it finally said. _Beep._

"Hello. This is the Nuvema Police Department, to anyone living at this residence, regarding Oscar...Oscar Ryman." I appended Sara's last name. "We are sorry to inform you that Oscar Ryman took his own life this morning. He was discovered tied down to a large brick: we believed he jumped to his death from the pier. We have ruled his death a suicide. No note was left on the scene. We are very sorry for your loss and offer our heartfelt condolences." _Beep._

The open bedroom door was inviting me to step in. _Well, thank you very much. Maybe this will be a party I will never forget._ Pictures of the deerling and the floatzel I'd encountered earlier and three other pokémon I hadn't met before were on the dressing table, sitting in an otherwise empty bedroom. _All the guests are here already, I see. Welcome, welcome. Let us celebrate now Oscar is gone. Let us celebrate his demise at last._ I found my claws wrangling with the bedsheets as those thoughts appeared. And there, in another corner, hanging on the wall…I sighed heavily. There were so many nice pictures of him. _Look how he's smiling. He seems to love ice cream. And there's him slurping oysters. I guess he likes those too._ But the picture of him crying met my eyes first. _Why are you crying? Don't cry. Be jolly in spirit now Oscar has left…right? Right?_ The crying picture wouldn't take its frame out of my mind. Fresh cuts on my belly and ulcers on my tongue appeared.

"Ah, fuck this!" I suddenly shouted. I crashed onto Oscar's bed, but it refused to offer me any respite, he likes a firm mattress. The mattress laughed at tired old me. I could almost hear it saying "Serves you right. Serves you fucking right for hitting rock bottom. Isn't that what is feels like now?" I laughed back. Hard. So that we were laughing together. I don't know why, I just had to. Then my laugh started turning to tears. I let my eyes close…and began to sleep off the tears. Water types can't stand salty water. It salt-cures them whole.

* * *

 _Henry! Henry!_

 _Wake up! Wake up!_

 _Henry! Why won't you wake up?_

" _Look, there's a pokémon beside the downed suspect."_

" _It's an oshawott."_

" _Are you okay, oshawott? We're the police. This is John, this is Matthew, and I am Oscar. Let's get you somewhere safe, now."_

 _My name's Mack, and Henry's my trainer! The first trainer I've had!_

" _Whoa, John…the oshawott knows how to talk with us."_

 _What did you do to Henry?_

" _Erm…well…"_

 _Well? Why won't Henry wake up?_

" _He's…he'll wake up soon I promise! Erm…"_

 _LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!_

" _Well…"_

 _LIAR! LIAR…!_

" _Now look what you've done, Oscar. Just tell the oshawott the truth."_

" _But Matthew…"_

" _Look Oscar, I know you're a pokémon trainer and everything and have this 'protective' instinct towards them. We gotta let the pokémon know. He's practically bawling his eyes out already."_

" _But…"_

 _What happened to Henry? What did to you do him?_

" _Mack…we shot Henry because he was hurting you. He's a bad trainer, he hurts other humans as well as pokémon like yourself."_

 _Nonsense! Henry Liberated me!_

" _No, Mack. It may not seem that way but he was hurting you. Now he is gone, you and other pokémon will no longer have to get hurt."_

…

" _Do you understand? Now let's get you some place—AARGH!"_

" _You okay, Matthew?"_

" _The little critter slashed me in my eye! I'll show you…"_

" _Stop it! Matthew, just because he speaks our tongue doesn't mean he's not a pokémon with wild instincts. Give him a break."_

 _Wake up…Henry…Henry…huh? What's happening? I'm glowing bright white. Hah! I look different now. I feel stronger now. Thank you for training me, Henry. Maybe if I attacked the bad police people earlier I could have saved you. Now I must find someone like you again. Make sure no more bad people stand in my way of my journey. Huh!? Where is my katana? Where is it? WHERE IS IT? HENRY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! HELP ME FIND IT! No…_

* * *

"No…no…oh. Where am I?" I said out loud. A nightmare again. _Maybe Darkrai was making his flight over the area._ I forced my eyes to squeeze shut, trying to drain any remnant of Henry lying there, me begging him to wake up. It was almost dark by the time I woke, just enough light for me to recognize Sammy's pictures across from the bed, still sitting on that same dressing table.

"Where did you go, my young oshawott?" I began speaking to the air. "Where did the youth go? Was it long ago when I saw Henry bleed from the edge of the lip, slain by the 'bad police people'…and then you were taken away as well? I evolved that day, right beside Henry's body. All the training with Him…it paid off. And that timid, young oshawott was replaced with a fierce, tough-hearted dewott. But now it's too cold under this thick metallic armor. What's wrong with me? I've become the indomitable warrior you always dreamed to be…why does the bloodshed make me feel this way? I don't know, just let me find Oshawott again! Let me see him again. AARGH!" I echoed the cry of the furious police officer, complaining of the fresh claw scratches that now appeared over my body.

"It's useless talking to air and pretending you're there, listening," I grunted through clenched teeth. "I need to see you. I need to see the young oshawott again…" The young oshawott's pictures turned damp from the tears. I thought about the message I had left on the Pokégear. " _We have ruled his death a suicide." The young oshawott will hear that. Sammy…will hear that._

I pressed a button. "Message erased."

I found a packet of cigarettes lying in the living room, probably (the late) Oscar's. I'd heard of these before. I'd avoided them in the past, but I decided to pull one out. But it wasn't helping any. It was hard to chew and felt absolutely disgusting when I forced it down my throat. _Tastes icky. Filth. Absolute filth. No wonder Oscar likes them._ I slurped down one of the oysters I brought to clear up my palate and left a shucked oyster by the young oshawott's pictures. _Maybe a fresh oyster will cleanse his young soul of all the pain he's experienced with the evil._

I got a little shock when I heard the door creak open, the sound of the pouring rain get louder. _Damn. Forgot to lock the door._ It's terrible I made that mistake again. Just terrible. I didn't think I could feel worse, but I guess I could. Should have learned from my mistake the first time.

I turned away from my thoughts, and saw it was the late Oscar's floatzel and deerling at the door. You could see the water-type had an instinctive reaction to me. I was an intruder. Al intruders are bad, of course. Intruders must be dealt with, of course. Intruders must be slain. He was about to charge towards me, even, but the deerling stopped him.

"Hello! I remember you." It was the deerling I had talked to earlier. "You're the oyster fisherman who wanted to bring us some oysters. Do you have them?"

"Where's Sammy?" I blurted out.

"Oscar's oshawott? Well...we don't know. We were staying here because Oscar told us too. But we got bored after a while, so we left the house to walk in the woods for a little bit. I'm sorry, did we give you a shock?"

I was sitting on the floor, breathless and dripping with sweat. "No...it's...just...just...Sammy."

"Ah. About Sammy. We were all out in the woods, and then he disappeared! We lost him!"

"You did?" I beamed. I secretly spit some oyster grit (mixed with cigarette gunk) on the floor. _Serves you right for trying to trap him. Oscar._

"We spent all day looking for him, but then it started raining so he came back home."

"So Sammy is free?" I had to say. It was like I would explode if didn't say what I had to say.

"I guess...but we need to find him! Oscar will be furious if we don't!"

"Ah…" I chuckled. "About Oscar…" I beckoned them inside the shelter of the house. "...I have some wonderful news." I closed the door behind them, locking it securely. Couldn't help showing a hint of smile. _There were more guests to this jovial occasion, were there not?_

"Oscar will never be furious. Oscar will never boss you around again. Oscar will never lock you up in this tiny cabin again."

"What do you mean?" The deerling turned serious.

"Oscar, my friends, is dead. And now you both...shall be free."

The deerling was first. I approached her slowly, but she didn't try to run away from me. With lightning speed I pinned her on the floor in preparation. She wasn't too tough to deal with, but she screamed quite loudly, tears trickling from her face. It was like a baby out of her womb. _Amazing. After being trapped in the darkness...free! Screaming, kicking, alive, free!_

"Free…" I sang gently as I held her down.

"AAAAH!" Such a sweet little baby.

"Doesn't it feel amazing to be free!?" I found myself saying.

"AAAAH!" Of course. I'm so stupid. Babies don't know how to talk. They just scream. And cry. But you know deep down that they adore this feeling. This feeling...of liberation. The feeling of being free. It's in all of us.

"Don't you!?" I screamed.

"AAAAH!"

"Free…! Free…free." The Liberation wasn't as hard as I thought. When I had finished, she didn't get up from the floor, or leave the cabin to explore the new world...free. She was trembling. She was crying as well, quietly sobbing. But the strangest thing was as I looked at her pencil thin body...I was trembling too. Even more than when I first came in. It was only when I tasted saltiness that I realized I was crying as well, quietly sobbing, along with her. It was so strange.

I heard the door open, and I snapped back to attention. The sound of the heavy rain poured into the house, but I made sure he wouldn't hear it for long. I ran and slammed the door, grabbing the sea weasel tightly.

"Argh…" His veins were popping at the spot where it held him. He could still breathe; I made sure of that. I wanted him to hear me, slowly. No rush on letting him go, or grabbing him real tight so that it would all end. Either way, he'll be free.

"Well, hello there. I'm glad we could have a little chat, Floatzel." I gave him an encouraging smile. "Now Oscar's gone, we can all be together. Deerling has already been Liberated. I'm sure you would love to be free, my friend. But before our...little chat...is over, let _this_ be lesson to you!"

I grabbed a bit tighter, almost to the point where he was about to gag. Unable to maintain his useless silence, his strained cries of mercy finally erupted from him. All the cowardice of his late trainer, shoved down his throat through mindless commands, artificial habits of a trained pokémon. The orange color of Oscar shirt, and how much Floatzel's own coat reminded me of it...seemed to dissipate. The dark-rimmed glasses; Floatzel's jet black eyes. The correlation was gone. The causation never existed. His screams erupted in a violent crescendo. It was done.

"Don't you see how amazing this is, Floatzel?" I trembled as he grunted, my claws digging deeper into his flesh. He was a lot more delicate to handle than I thought. I think even a trickle of blood was drawn. But the picture it made didn't amount to anything, and he remained unconvinced.

I slipped.

"Hey! Come back here!" He forced himself away from me, and scurried out the door, the blood from his wounds making a reddish-brown trail in the forest. It was an indelible tag of every move he made. The deerling soon followed her companion, hobbling away with a weak leg. I didn't rush to chase after them. Just stood at the doorway. I smiled. _They will never return again. They will be free at last. Liberated._

 _I guess I'll get back to Sara's home where I could at least hear some words of comfort and concern._

I was just about to head out the door and into the rain, when I just stopped. Three feet from the door. I didn't know why. All I knew was _I couldn't move._

 _Think…think—light tan. Orange shirt. Dark-rimmed glasses. Light tan. Orange shirt. Dark-rimmed glasses._

 _You will never to cease to haunt me, will you? Just like all the other trainers I sent off to the afterlife. Stop laughing at me! Okay, squeeze your eyes shut. Tighter. Tighter. Good that's it. Now step out of the door. One…two…three, open the door, step out…good. Now take another step. Now—_ "AARGH!" I heard myself cry in the expanse of woods outside the log cabin.

And then…all I heard was the percussion of rain. _Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._ All the blood dripping away… _tap, tap, tap._

"What happened?" I heard my voice call.

"What…what am I doing here?"

"What…was…I thinking just a few seconds ago?"

 _Walk back to Sara's place, now. Step. Step._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What's gotten into you, Mack?" Sara spoke quietly as she washed and groomed my crimson-splotched coat. "I don't get it. You just pop out of the house at some random hour and return with these claw scratches all over you and dirt all over your coat. If you keep doing this, I'm gonna have to start keeping you in the pokéball."

I protested.

"Not so loud, Mack! Okay, I know you wouldn't like that…I won't do that to you." She stopped rinsing off my coat and turned to face me. "But please stay by my side and take care of yourself. I don't want to see you get hurt again, you understand?" Another slutty squeal at the end of her speech.

"Samu…" Mumbled some gibberish again. Stared far into the distance, hoping my delusional eyes would place Sammy's log cabin before my eyes. But to no avail. Just a beige painted wall, with a picture of Sara and I hanging on a nail. Hanging on one nail, so that it'd swing from side to side if I pushed it. _Creak, creak, creak…_

"Mack?"

"Samu?"

"You wanna...take a ride in my sports car? Maybe make ya feel a little better?"

I didn't want to that much, but I nodded my head. I needed to do something really bad.

The wind flattened us as we breezed along the coastal road in Nuvema. Why did I want to do this? _This is annoying,_ I realized as I felt the workings of engine shake my body out of control, the bumps in the not-so-smooth asphalt dictating my body's fate. I could barely think. All I thought of was that little oshawott clinging to something for safety afraid of falling off. The baby oyster trying desperately to stay affixed to that rock for survival only to succumb to the vibrations, and fall into that inhospitable ocean of asphalt. Everything whooshed past at 100 times, couldn't tell where I was, all just a blur. " _Just a blur." Sounds like that time. "'What happened?' I heard my voice call. 'What . . . what am I doing here?' 'What…was…I thinking just a few seconds ago?'"_ I spit some oyster grit at that thought. The player had hung up his game controller and turned off the machine. I wasn't thinking about Sara even. I just silently prayed that some form of that young oshawott would form out of that incomprehensible blur. _I was so close, man. I saw his photos already, Sammy's photos. I was so fucking close. If I was so close, how come I couldn't touch him? Zeno's Paradox, I'd say. This speedy car won't even take back to that young oshawott, how did I expect it to take me to the moon?_ I heaved a loud sigh, inaudible in the rush of wind against my face.

"Mack? Mack? We're home now. Why're you staring like that? Hmm?" Sara asked me; as if she'd get an answer.

"Hello? Mack? Mack?" I began squinting my eyes.

I finally stepped out of the car.

"No! Mack! What did you do?" Sara stood aghast.

I left Sara to clean up the urine and feces on the brand new, snivy-skin leather seat.

* * *

The sheets, I guess they didn't smell like home anymore. Everything was rumpled and strewn about the bed. Red and brown splotches interspersed with the white. I settled in, and turned off the lights. Kind of pointless, 'cause I wouldn't really sleep anyway. But it was a routine. In the darkness, I felt myself sinking in that ocean of darkness. Every night after the oyster warehouse I'd sink into the dark where I'd meet my brethren of bottom-feeders, feeding on the grit and scraps on the floor. Arceus, that grit tasted horrible. Left the heaviest pit in my stomach; those two things were the only things that went through my head.

But something else was keeping me sleepless that night; making the few sheets I had on my scrap of a bed damp with sweat. It left me shivering. It was the aftershock, the recoil from the firing of the weapon, the guilt after the passionate night. You'd never think it'd hit you, until it arrived. I didn't think it'd still hit me so long after it happened. I mean, I was never caught. Not for that crime anyway. I just watched her weighed-down body slowly sink down the murky coast of Nuvema—that time at the oyster warehouse—along with Oscar and Matt.

Now, I will let the dead woman write for me. Let her exorcise herself from this prison cell where I write my tale, where she dares to immerse me in the fire sprinkler's water or tear my flesh with the rusty iron bars on the window. Let me exorcise her from myself, through these punctuated trails of black ink in paper. I'm shutting my eyes, vulnerable as Darkrai's prey. I see crimson plumes rising to the water's surface as the bleeding human source falls into the depths. As she hits bottom, the oysters, the bottom feeders, will clean up the mess. The filth-eaters make the filth clean again. The filth that was my eighth trainer. The one who had escaped the sharpened edge of my lethal weapon; but only for a time. She was bound to die eventually. Now, as she stands before Arceus, let her repent for the beatings, let her repent for the journey of excess, let her repent for the heartbreak. The victim: yours truly.

This was quite a while back, long before Sara came to my knowledge. Her name was Victoria. Her name said it all. Well-off, big spender, and most of all, a secret to the new acquaintance. No one really understood her like I did. She had this obsession. One of the more enjoyable trainers I've had for sure. But maybe I'm just as ignoramus as the rest. She dared call me…a "rapist." After all the things we've been though. Oh, well. Maybe it'd be best if I start from the beginning.

If Sara were the nurturing chansey, Victoria was the gleaming young shinx; the eye-catcher at the club, shining fiercely in the dim light, appearing as vulnerable as ever—that was her charm. With every movement of her body, sparks flew, both around her and in my heart. This was a pacemaker that put a great strain on me. If Sara pet me gently and fed me well, Victoria pet me generously, and we fed off each other. Sara was the daughter of a staid academic. Victoria, why, there was no saying what direction her heart would sway. A cup of coffee, a shopping spree at the mall, a night at the Musical Theater, and yet in the web of complexity. I found the simple moments with her. The way she stared into my eyes as if my glowing red eyes were just as human as her own. The unfeigned smile she had slurping iced coffee at Nimbasa. The gentle turning of the Ferris wheel through the night. Going up, then down. A full turn of the wheel, that was my time with her. From bottom...around...to bottom...to bottomless.

* * *

VICTORIA: TRAINER #8

* * *

"Daddy, I can take of myself, damn it!"

"Don't speak to your father using that language! Now, you apologize, missy!"

"Let me take him in!"

"You're not responsible enough!"

"Please…daddy?"

"Oh…I guess. You're all grown-up now…you must learn to take responsibility."

"C'mon, daddy, I'm already 21."

"Well, be careful with it. You found and kept a dewott, now you must learn to treat it properly."

"Yes, Daddy."

"But if I catch you not taking care of it, nurturing it…that's it."

"Yes Daddy! Thank you, daddy!" Victoria always had this little squeal at the end of her speech. I loved that about her. Made her sound, so sweet and innocent. Every time I heard it, I'd feel a closed smile creep up on me.

She hung up the phone and drew her attention to me. I was lying against a geometric corner of the glass-walled penthouse that Victoria called home. Of course she didn't have the money to afford such an expense (and also furnish it). Her father had very deep pockets. Deep pockets that penetrated in Victoria's free will. She was trying to break free, I knew that. But her father's shadow always lay behind her: the tall, gleaming penthouse walls. I blame her for not having the courage to stand by me. That's one thing I despised about her, now looking back.

"Ready to go?" She asked, guitar hanging on her neck.

"Dew! Dew!" Some gibberish in my language. I was a dewott back then.

It was very easy to live in the moment with her. I hadn't realized we'd be going anywhere until just then. I hadn't heard her preparing per instrument, doing a long and meticulous makeup ritual. She was just...herself. And herself was good enough for me. I stared at her, eyes half-closed. Her denim faded to the rugged exterior of the shell of the oyster, the latter which I always crave. The soft, luscious skin at her cheek was the flesh inside, which I always, _always_ savored. Damn. She was just one, big, giant oyster. To slurp. To lick. To spread across the body, like pristine, virgin nectar from the fragrant flowers. Fresh from the lush gardens of the sea.

"Come on, Mack! Stop dreaming!"

But I wasn't dreaming. The oyster stood right in front of me, holding her guitar.

* * *

It was a longer trip to Castelia City than I had thought. We had expected to arrive in the early evening, when they start opening, but Café Sonata was packed when got there. When the seats had run out, people stood up. I could barely see owing to my height, but Victoria lifted me up above the crowd so I could, even though she couldn't (she was only 5'5" or something, with heels.). That was exhilarating. It was like standing on top of a hill, looking down at all the people, swarming around the crowded room, their little heads bobbing up and down and around. You could almost feel a slight mountain breeze. Everyone down below, just aimlessly wandering, wandering. So busy. So chaotic. Couldn't stand it. I had this urge to pull my scalchops and fix the problem, but I stopped myself.

"Next up, Victoria Erskine?" A man called from the front.

"Oh, that's me!" She pulled me tightly towards her chest, protecting me, and pushed her way through all the people onto the front stage. My head leaning against her bosom, and that felt rather strange. Everyone was bickering, scolding Victoria as she jostled through the inebriated crowd. My stomach quivered, feeling her so close to me, listening to her heart beat fast. She was nervous. But it was a wonderful sickness. I never wanted the illness to ever leave. It felt great.

She got onto the stage, then let me go and had me stand beside her. For a while, staring at her face, it was as if she still pulled me tightly into her chest, but the feeling faded after a while.

"Hello…" Victoria spoke into the microphone. "I'd like to dedicate this song to…my family, and my dear pokémon"—she turned to me and giggled—"…who have all made my dream a reality."

"Excuse me miss," the café manager approached Victoria, "...sorry, we don't allow pokémon on the premises. You'll need to keep him in the pokéball."

He didn't even bother to lower his voice or anything. _Let me hear all the bad news, huh. That's the way you treat pokémon. I'm brave enough to risk my fucking life in a human-led Battle and you tell me I don't belong here, in your café, among the "upper echelons of human society". How dare he._

Victoria frantically searched her purse, the enthusiastic smile having quickly faded away. "Oh, damn, I left all my extra pokéballs at home."

"Well, perhaps leave him by the back exit. It'll be quite safe there."

"Wait, I haven't checked this pocket yet. Hold on a sec," Victoria didn't look up from her purse. The audience began growing impatient, their voices raised, engaged in casual small talk.

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Erskine," The manager said hastily. "Just allow me to take him out the back, and you perform your song."

"Yes, I guess, okay." Victoria didn't giggle anymore, or have the cute little squeal at the end of her speech. She seemed all serious, her eyes drooped over guitar, fidgeting with her pick. She didn't even look up to see me as the manager took me away. She just heard—in the indistinct bickering of the now livid audience—the manager saying quietly, "C'mon, dear. This way. That's it. C'mon."

There wasn't much of a moon that night; it was cloudy and the evening sky still showed a hit of dark blue hit. The cars' wheels grinded on the noisy pavement, and voices in the street penetrated through the fence of the private courtyard. It was a satisfactory tune. _Rrrr._ My eyes began to fall shut as I threw myself at the mercy of its roar. _Rrrr. Vrrrm._

But then I heard her voice come through an air vent in the café wall. Victoria had begun to sing. The sweet melody flowed like trails of honey, gluing an indelible poem onto my heart. It was soft and light, complemented by the gentle riffs of the guitar. No trails of black ink I write can ever equate her song. I could never write as well as that. Not with the pen of pitches and notes.

There was a point where she seemed to cry near the end of the song, like she was missing something. Her rough and strained sound brought shivers through my bones, tore through me more than it did her young, fragile vocal cords. It was almost happy: happy that it was gone. No more. Yet it was sad because something _was_ gone. _No_ more. It's never good to be without, to be deprived. Take hunger, for instance. I don't think there's really been a time when my hunger was fully satiated. I always want more. Kind of a curse.

Despite this, _these_ cries of deprivation—the ones Victoria cried—made my heart so full, so complete, more than I'd ever felt. The sweet, viscous honey of her tune filled the cracks, the gaps, the broken pieces, and it was whole again. That was a great time. Probably the sweetest memory I ever had with Victoria. I just remembered thanking it again and again: "Thank you, thank you;" being so damn grateful for that tiny metal air vent that carried so much for its size.

But Arceus, was that sweetness sickening. Later on, I really grew to resent the music. 'Cause even when she left, that sweet honey never left me. Honey never spoils. And the tunes I would vocalize never could remind me of her, and that damn guitar. I had lifted myself up, peering through the air vent, trying to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. But the metal bars blocked my view, and I had to settle with just the sound. She had intended for me to me with her, sitting beside her. She wanted me to _see_ her. She wanted me to see her lips move, her hand sweeping over the strings of the guitar. It never happened. _Who dare stop that from happening? Who dare do such a thing?_

Sitting outside, against the courtyard fence, a creaking sound and the pouring of light through the corner of my eye compelled me to turn my head. I saw the back exit swing open, and out stepped the manager, cigarette in his hand. Everyone was watching Victoria, listening to her talent shine on the stage. Except the manager. He just casually flicked on his lighter, let the filthy ash and tar overtake him, then puffed out grey smoke which drifted its way through the metal air vent and into the café. The smoke would reach Victoria, singing her light, heartfelt tune, and choke her mercilessly...the manager's filthy cigarette having reached her own fragile lungs. The smoke was horrible. _How dare he._

I almost jumped in fright when he hurled his glowing cigarette butt into the darkness and singed a patch of fur on my back. His eyes and judgment were blinded by the toxic smoke, and he didn't look where he was throwing. Arceus, it hurt. I did the best I could, spraying Water Gun on the wound, but I still had to lie stomach down, 'cause the pain was too much. I looked I'd been run over in a bloody car crash, I swear. I tried tilting my head up so the air vent would still be within sight, but my neck couldn't tilt that high. Just heard the muffled pitches through the sturdy brick walls. The sound was so distorted, it could've been anyone singing. Me, the manager, a machine. _The manager. How dare he._

Another one of his damn cigarette butts barely missed and fell right beside me. Its embers were still glowing strong, so I had to make sure to grab it on the side. It was easy to carry, it had a good weight to it. The flaming tip had a whole lot of destructive power in a slim package, like a katana of sorts. It couldn't really cut through anything, but I figured it would do the trick.

I squinted my eyes, pinpointing his bare leg. Tightly grasped in both hands, I plunged the hot, smoldering cigarette into him. _He'll be scared now._ And boy, was he scared. He screamed at a pitch I thought only a zubat could hear, raced back into the café through the back exit he had came out from. I saw his face at the window of his office, trying to pick out who it was in the dim light outside. He couldn't see me. My blue fur camouflaged straight into the dim evening sky. It was like I was invisible. _I'm invisible. Invisible. I'm fucking invisible!_ I was breathing real heavy for no apparent reason, also dripping like mad with sticky sweat. Must have been all the aimless fidgeting, pacing around the back courtyard thinking "I'm invisible! I'm invisible!" I wouldn't stop trembling the rest of the night.

A couple minutes later, Victoria finished. She picked me up from the courtyard, asked me how my night was commented that everyone loved her performance, or something that, I'm really not that sure. I couldn't hear her too well, probably because I was invisible.


	9. Chapter 9

(Thanks for reading! As always, be sure to comment on your thoughts...and hope you enjoy.)

* * *

Chapter 9

"Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm." That's all I was hearing from Victoria, the whole morning. Her father decided to have one of those "long talks" with her again. Now he was retired, he never had much to do anyway; sometimes the father and daughter would go on for hours. All morning, maybe a short break for lunch, all afternoon, all evening. All night, when their lively exchange of words would keep me awake, time and time again. But I found ways to cope.

While she was on the phone, I was in the middle of drinking one of those sweet smoothies that Victoria was so great at making. She didn't cook, but that was fine 'cause the supply of moist, slimy raw oysters never ran dry in the fridge. But boy, did her smoothies stand out from the rest. She'd always let me help make a batch, gathering all the ingredients to put in the blender. She'd read out to me a recipe. First ingredient. Second ingredient. I got into position. I'd take off at full speed, racing and leaping about the confines of the kitchen, eyes peeled at every corner, every cabinet, every nook and cranny for them. I'd locate them—after she'd lift me up to reach the high shelves (I wasn't very tall as a dewott)—and then she'd press the button on the blender.

Everything would get chopped up, effortlessly. _Whirrr._ I loved to press my head against the glass wall of the blender, watching as the Cheri Berries would spray their thick, red juice along the side, until it just became a goop that could never tell had Oran Berries, Pecha Berries, or whatever in it. Red was always the stronger color, if I put a red Berry in there. Red would stain the glass walls in such a jarring color, splashed into beautiful patterns; crafted by the engine of high velocity. I found myself staring at the shapes, eyes half-closed; the same way I did at Victoria's denim clothes and plump, youthful skin. Then I would get mad when she took the blender away from me and ran tap water over it, but she said—a little confused at my protests—that she had to clean it.

The signature ingredient that always made its presence was a generous pour of liquor. White rum was the selection for the most recent batch. Victoria always could figure out my likes. Like from the way I'd always try to climb up the dizzying heights of the liquor cabinet to reach the baijiu and vodka. I was getting better and better at it with every day, too. My sharp claws would dig into the hardwood panels, keeping my cool even as the furniture shook in the occasional earthquake.

I honestly thought I was fucked when she was woken by the noise and caught me red-handed one night. But no, she just giggled, with that delightful little squeal at the end. She got the key, opened it up, let me have the bottle. It would burn like fire, but always when she served it to me—her hands cradling the glass bottle like a fragile pokémon egg—there was this nice, sweet aftertaste at the end. She was magical. Everything she touched turned sweet in my tongue, every song she sang turned sweet.

Her dad talked with her through the whole damn morning and afternoon. I swear I must've had four or five of those saccharine smoothies before she finally hung up, and also twenty or thirty oysters as a chaser. She caught me in the middle of my sixth drink.

"Hurry up, Mack! We don't have much time! You can finish drinking your smoothie later."

"Dew…?" I swear there was an earthquake, 'cause when I got up I was all wobbly. I could barely even stand up straight. Just lying on the ground, face down was all I could do as the ground shook.

"Mack, did you drink too much? Here, let me take you." Her arms cradled me out the door and into the bright sunlight. Even closing my eyes was too bright to stand, so I covered them with my scalchops as well.

* * *

Once we got into the Ferris wheel, she set me free about the cabin. I had regained my step a little, and could even walk to the glass wall at the other end of the room without tripping. The view was remarkable. With my legs limp and wobbly, I found myself leaning against the glass, amazed at the heights we at...were amazed at the power it took to lift the two of us up so high, amazed at the prospect of seizing that very power. Our blurred reflections floated in the glass like phantoms: my perfectly trimmed whiskers, smooth, silky coat, perfect light tanned skin of a human body, cloaked in a ravishing summer dress of pastel colors. _If we die and become ghosts, at least we shall be together._ Victoria held me close, and I guess for once I found no comparison to that moment, that feeling. Just unique. And I appreciated that. I walked back towards my trainer.

"No, Mack, my father's gonna kill me." I quietly laughed at Victoria's rejection. She always said things she never really meant. Maybe she was trying to tick me off.

"Oh…oh…! Oh, Arceus…an earthquake! AAAH! AAAH…!" Arceus, could she scream. Not in a very high pitch, no. But she had this undertone, this sort of dimension in her scream, like there wasn't just one thing. There were so many hidden elements, but I could never figure out what they were. So enigmatic were her screams that I would spend hours on my own at night, experimenting with vocalizations that would lead to the reason.

It was something only she could do...scream. Only she could...scream. Only when she screamed the earth would move—tremble in synchrony to her voice. That was a very desirable trait of hers, one that I only truly appreciated when my seamitar finally made its fatal plunge into her body at the Nuvema Pier. What a lovely sound she made, as she drew her very last breath. Almost like she was liberated. Like, truly liberated.

"Oh Arceus, oh Arceus…help me Arceus…" she clung to me as the Ferris Wheel continued to wobble, even though I was really small as a dewott and really couldn't offer much protection. Maybe she was protecting me? I don't know.

After a minute or so the earthquake faded, and she was left holding her pokémon, those eyes of fright that stared into me now turned to the half-closed state of a lustful dream. She smiled. "Oh Arceus, thank you!" The dream was real, she realized. Her lips pressed against mine.

The truth was, we were two free spirits. We enjoyed liberating each other, whenever we felt like it. I guess the Ferris wheel was private enough. Victoria never called it "Liberation", though. She called it something else I never understood. Whenever I tried to say it out loud, it left a taste of oyster grit in my mouth.

She whispered to me. "Y'know, I'd think you were just a creature…wild, untamed…but you're better than all the other humans I've loved. That's 'cause you _are_ a creature...wild...untamed...and I _love_ it!"

After we finished our mutual liberation, the Ferris Wheel had completed a rotation and we had to exit. No more giddy heights anymore, not unless you pay for a re-ride.

With her, I began to love the pain, the torture, watching the manifestations of power made my anatomy stir in response. _General Mack is the triumphant, having slain the great enemy. As the enemy suffers, General Mack laughs as their pain bleeds out._

" _Ring ring, ring ring,_ " I heard Victoria's cell phone chime as we walked our way home.

"Hey, Daddy," Victoria said calmly over the phone. Hairs on my furry coat stood on end.

"What did we do? Oh, Mack and I just went on the Ferris wheel." At least she told the truth there.

"You are? Erm...I guess you can. But I didn't make anything...oh, you ate before. Okay, sounds good. Talk to you later! Bye!" The cute squeal at the end of her voice sent shivers down my spine. I smiled at her beautiful body.

As all nights did, that night we led ourselves to the bedroom. I smiled lightly as we prepared for our liberation again. But Victoria stopped at the foot of the bed, her skimpy night attire framed by the canopy bed.

"Mack. Listen. I really hate to say this. But please, no," I didn't stop my advances on her. "My Dad's gonna kill me. Please, I—"

I crooned into her ear, in human speech. "Forget your Dad. Come on, let's go."

She probably didn't know where that sweet voice came from. She must've thought it was all in her head.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Do you like it to hurt?" Victoria asked when we finished.

Silence.

"I hope I didn't hurt you too badly," she finally said. "You're bleeding! I'm so sorry."

"Dewott," I smiled gently at her. The cuts and bruises were but a part of our liberation, every single time. Droplets of red color congealed on the edge of my scalchop, which was still clutched tightly in my hand. I stared at my handiwork framed by Victoria's perfect skin. She smiled as the blood trickled out. I always figured out how to elicit from Victoria the most passionate cries of pleasurable pain, such a sweet melody.

"You sure? Okay." She smiled, then turned to face the ceiling again. I did the same.

"You're so flexible. We should do it in other places sometimes. Whenever we feel like it."

"Dew?" I asked her. _What do you mean?_

"Y'know, sex!" She said quite boldly.

I spit some oyster grit beside the bed. I pulled the blood-stained sheets over my body—a high-thread count, but turned coarse from the dried blood caked on the surface—and decided to sleep a little earlier than usual. I didn't really feel like talking to Victoria. I mean, liberating her was nice. It was only then I really felt like I knew her: when her heart and judgment were clouded by lust. I never understood liberation when poisoned by the deception of love. If I liberate someone who herself is imprisoned by gross impurities, have I really fulfilled my task?

Her impure self only served one purpose, and in the midst of the act, I guess that one purpose of the pleasures of Liberation was more than enough for me to keep being with her, to tolerate the flashy, shallow mind that bring a magikarp to utter asphyxiation. The simple moments were great, sure—oh Arceus, I can still recall a sweet little face of hers sitting in a small Nimbasa café; opposite from me, sipping an iced coffee, irresistible little smile on her face—but I wanted to dive deeper and explore the depths of the ocean. How strange that liberation did not satiate that longing.

"Wait!" She suddenly whispered before I could fall asleep. "There're footsteps down the hall!"

"Shit!" I heard myself say under my breath. A man approached our room.

"Victoria, I'm…Victoria!?" The man's voice turned angry so quickly, like _that_.

Victoria pulled the blanket over herself, trying to cover the cuts and wounds more than anything. I did the same.

"Father! What…what're you doing here?"

"Are my eyes deceiving me?" He squinted his eyes and came closer. She pulled the blanket even further up.

"Father, I…" Shit. Her face was covered in sweat. Her whole body was trembling. All the life just drained. Victoria was _scared_ of her father.

"What're you doing in bed with a, with a...I can't even say it." He shielded his eyes from the atrocity he'd witnessed. The father's face was all green. I guess he could've scolded us right there, but his being so sick to the stomach stopped him.

"Dad, I promise, it won't happen again."

"Oh, of course! Y'all are just gonna _stop_ having sex with each other! You expect me to believe that, missy!? I trusted you! I trusted you to care to for him!" He sighed sharply, and continued at a lower volume. "I thought, of all people, my own daughter would have the responsibility to care for a pokémon...turns out I was wrong."

"Dad, I'll stop this from happening. I'll do whatever you tell me." She declared. "This dewott...means _nothing_ to me. Not when you're still here and alive, Father."

My eyebrows went up. Something shattered again, I could tell. But nothing in the bedroom was broken. A shiver rippled through my spine, and I suddenly felt like I was sleeping with a stranger. Who was this girl with me? This human, deceived and possessed by words and love? I would never succumb to such things; I am not so vulnerable.

"Well, I'm _not_ gonna let it happen again!" The father continued. "In fact it shouldn't have even happened in the first place? Where has you mind…your sense gone too, huh!? Our family has a big reputation around here, in case you haven't realized. If this ever leaks out to the damn press, our reputation's gonna be sticking out like a big, fat, sore thumb! Now, you better listen well. As long as I live, I am _not_ going to see this...poképhilia...ever again in _my_ family! Is that clear, missy!?" He was back to being angry again.

"Yes, Father!"

"Put some clothes on, then get out of that bed! I want you outta here in five minutes, you hear?"

"Yes, Father!"

"And put that...pokémon...back in his pokéball!"

He turned his back on us. My spine shivered again. My heart was beating like mad. The sweats of labor towards liberation turned to cold, icy drops, commanding me to take action. I leaped from the bed. I landed over his shoulders, hands firmly clutched on my scalchops.

His blood tasted great as it fountained from his ruptured veins. Lying on his stomach, he never even got to see his assailant. I hate mystery. In fact, I thought of all the mystery films I hated the most as I sliced at his clothes and flesh. _There was the one about…_

His cries were loud, pleading me to stop. His screams were like a girl towards the end. But that was pleasure. I knew that to be true from the squeals of passion from Victoria. He could scream as loud as he wanted, but he knew his fate. No cries for mercy would do anything. _General Mack has besieged the city! Celebrate! Festivities and revelry shall commence in the streets! Our subjects may shout, they may protest, they may even rebel! But they shall never leave the influence of Our Almighty Military! Lead! Go forward! Charge…!_

"…CHARGE!" I yelled in human speech.

"YAARGH!" The father screamed.

"…CHARGE!"

"YAARGH!"

"What's the use screaming now, little shit!?" The blood was spraying all over, even to the foot of the bed.

When his screams subsided to whimpers and groans, I spit all the oyster grit that had settled in my foul mouth onto his blood-covered back. It was perfect. Everyone got exactly what they wanted. My thirst was quenched, Victoria was still pleased from our most recent Liberation and the father never saw another act of bestiality, as long as he ever lived. I circled around my handiwork for a few minutes. Victoria watched silently.

I turned to face her, continuing in human speech. "Aw, Victoria…" I grunted through my teeth. "Why'd you not _lock_ the door?" I chased her frantically about the room, blood-caked scalchops in hand. "If you'd just locked it, we wouldn't be in this mess."

She still pulled the damn blanket over half her face. I didn't know why. I laughed real hard when I'd finally slain the hated father. Why didn't she laugh along? Or come leaping straight into my arms? She never liked him anyway. Shit. Her face was covered in sweat. Her whole body was trembling. All the life just drained. Victoria was _scared_ of me.

"Mack…!" was all she could manage to say.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LOCK THE DOOR!?" Silence.

"TELL ME!" Seeing my fresh kill drove me to passion. It was different passion. A passion to destroy, with total non-bias. My fangs showed real well at her as I roared into her ear.

"Mack…don't come so close, I…" Her body trembled from the shivering down her spine. Her heart was beating like mad. I could see the cold, icy sweat on her. I could see that she could kill.

"You forgot!?" Emotions aflame, I sent her my love through a cut on her torso of a scalchop.

"Mack!? What in fucking Arceus are you doing?"

"I thought that you _like_ it when it hurts?" That was actually funny. Arceus, am I a fucking comedian right now? I laughed real hard, my fangs still pointing at her real good.

"Stop laughing at me! Don't touch me!" Could barely hear her as the euphoria of laughter possessed me.

"You like it when it hurts. You _love_ it." I growled. "This is my gift of love to you." Another scratch on her arm with the scalchop. More of the pain pulsated through her body. I loved to see her happy. I loved to see her hurt, for when she hurt, she was happy.

"Let...GO...of me!" She pushed me away. "YOU RAPIST!"

Something shattered, I could tell—again. But nothing in the bedroom was broken—again. All the ruby red passion had drained from me, and in its place filled a fire. I grew flushed and tense as its power escalated.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME!?"

"Mack…"

It was too late for her to do anything. _I_ made the next move. Arceus, I loved that fire, the way that it gave _me_ control. "SAY THAT AGAIN TO MY FUCKING FACE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" My scalchop pressed on the tender flesh of her neck, a part I hadn't touched yet, surprisingly. She could smell my musky breath as I yanked her close; she could feel the fear pulsing through her bones as the razor-sharp scalchop pressed in; she could see her worst nightmare before her very eyes. It was just so _perfect_. Never wanted that moment to end.

"What…Mack!? Mack? Mack...what...Mack..." were the only two teary, pathetic words she could manage. Her fate was decided.

Fresh pools of red coated the ground where she finally collapsed.

She still wore that matching bright-red silk night attire, the dim yellowish lighting over her, the tears dripping and mixing into the pool of blood. I couldn't help but join her. I don't know why the dam burst and my eyes flooded. I've no idea what was it that compelled me into such a state. It was like a horrible poison that deeply sickened my stomach. The poison drove me mad as it took control of me with the pain it delivered. And oh, Arceus, was the pain bad. It made me fall to my knees as much as it did for her. It made me rush for the antiseptic and bandages that would heal her body. It made my blood-soaked paws reach for her trembling body, before she gently pushed my likewise trembling body away from her, grabbed her winter coat, and left me alone. I could hear her sobs down the hall, moving towards the front door… the front door slammed behind her, and I didn't hear the sobs anymore.

The door slamming seemed to stop the poison, and set me straight again. Did I really do all that? All that? Go to tears for the victim? Touch the victim? Try to heal the victim who deserved the pain? Shit. All that fucking emotion, spent on _that_ bitch. I spent all my forces and energy, hoping to strike gold; then I find out Liberation doesn't mean shit. I hate Liberation. I spit some oyster grit to my feet, but not like my feet soaked in her putrid blood can get any more of scum as punishment. _Fuck my feet for stepping into the room. Fuck my feet for not walking out and trying to get her back._ I fell flat on the rug, with my eyes closed so I could imagine it was just water. And then I remembered her screams of joy. Her screams of "joy." I remembered her talking to me, in the good and the bad. Such a powerful voice, now I think about it. I could almost…hear her sing that sweet tune at the café. Those beautiful high notes, the sultry low, her melisma drew the poison into me, and I cried again. A chill ran through my tears, and soon I was shaking. I should've expected it; I'd been having trouble thinking straight recently. I lost consciousness momentarily . . . and I had changed form.

I really hate evolution.

Perhaps humans don't realize how much energy it takes for a pokémon to evolve. The whole day, you can't think lucid thoughts. It's like some horrid demon slowly reaching towards you. That makes you tired as fuck. Eventually, you give in and can't even think, you just sit there, motionless, shaking. You know how pathetic I look? No, actually you don't. Then that horrid demon becomes so powerful that just can't try to think clean, pure, thoughts. Your whole mind is saturated with some hormone-ridden fantasy. I don't know if other pokémon thought it was pleasant. I never had the opportunity to ask them. Victoria kept me away from other pokémon. I was hers, and hers alone. _No_ one could steal me from her. I thought of that, and I cried again. The slamming door replayed again. I had to silence it. I had to destroy it.

The furniture was too strong. It was that new modern furniture. All metal framework. My new seamitar just hit that mattress, again and again. I'd imagine Victoria lying there, as she always did, waiting for me to just lose my damn self in my emotions, and I'd hit it harder. Harder! Harder! But it would just never give way and collapse. Just bounce. The mattress would just bounce. Arceus, I hated seeing that. Arceus, I hate evolution.

 _Snap_.

I didn't know what to say. Nearly tricked myself into thinking I was gonna evolve again. My seamitar, broken into two. The glow disappeared from it, like someone pulled the plug. Guess I pulled the plug on my own damn self. Arceus, I _am_ getting crazy. I didn't remember anything after that, except I heard a loud thud and everything went dark.

* * *

 _Henry?_

" _Yes?"_

 _Why is the katana so special?_

" _Well…see here. This is one of finest ancient swords crafted for the Japanese samurai, many years ago. See how sharp the blade is? That's a sure mark of quality."_

 _Is that all?_

" _No…see here. You can see, it's been forged by hand…centuries ago, in fact. Out of pure solid steel. See the shininess? It's vital you keep it that way."_

 _If it's not shiny, can I still use it?_

" _You can…but see here. Look there. Look into the reflection of the sword blade. What do you see?"_

 _I see…me!_

" _The katana trusts you, Mack. Without that reflection, the katana has no 'soul'. It's the soul that makes the katana so special. That's why you must take care of it. Treat it as you would a pet. Feed it with rigorous battling, keep it groomed and shiny._

" _And most importantly…don't break its heart. When the blade snaps in two…the soul will escape. And it'll just be a cold piece of metal."_

 _What happens if the blade snaps in two?_

" _Do not dwell on that thought. If you are strong in spirit…there is nothing that can break a good weapon."_

* * *

I guess I'd grown weak in spirit from evolution. I turned to see the broken pieces of my seamitar and I cried. It was like it's pained soul had escaped and flooded into my body. My tears were clear, thank Arceus. If they were gritty with all the dirt I'd welled up inside me, I'd sooner have impaled myself with the shards of seamitar. That seemed like a very good next thing to do. Anything seemed like a good next thing, anything to pull me away from that indestructible mattress. _Four-post bed. Mahogany wood. Maple inlay. Four-post bed. Mahogany wood. Maple inlay. Four-post bed. Mahogany wood. Maple inlay._ I slapped myself, that worked for a bit. I managed to roll the heavier weight of my evolved form out of the bed.

I walked into the living room, the train wreck of but the past hour having shell-shocked me into a blank stare. I didn't like how it was so fucking silent. Damn soundproof windows. I began to speak into the air, but I stopped. Couldn't find any voices in the air. Yeah, it was that silent. I pour out all my heart and guts into the sterile room and that's all the fucking solace I get. The ceilings were really high in the living room, the ceiling fan perched at the top. Dim yellowish-orange lighting, sleek, icy-cold modern furniture lined in a perfect geometrical arrangement. I bathed my blood-soaked skin in the soft white leather sofa. _Maybe I could paint a pretty picture in her memory. Let the red splotches in nonsensical patterns be a tribute to her insatiable fetish for bloodshed and pain._ That's all I ever loved about her. I figured it out. And still the tears flowed as the sound of the slamming door ringed in my mind. _Arceus, I loved her for that?_

But then there was the sweet tune, the gentle notes that filled my mouth with the nectars of promise and delight, but they just tasted bitter now, for my tastes had been numbed by her and would never feel the sweetness of life flow in again. There was still my half-drank smoothie sitting on the table, but that was finished very quickly, and the tune quickly came back to haunt me. After pacing about the room, I found a bottle of whiskey in the spirits cabinet, which I could now easily reach in my larger, evolved form. It burned so vividly in the throat as I gulped it down. Like the unnatural fire of a fever more than the fire of energy. It's decided bitterness shocked my already conditioned tongue. Everyday, hearing the viscous trails of honey in her words, drowning in the honey-filled pool of passion with her, then waking up to the honey of lust and afterglow every morning, beside her on the bed. Every fucking day, every fucking night, every fucking morning. My tongue craved for some of that fucking night…but all I tasted was the bitter cold air. I gasped violently, and tensed up my face, 'cause that was all I could to try to just let go of it, the mere thought of it. You know how hard it is to stop eating sweets? I should know.

But the whiskey helped. The hard liquor was the hard truth, stripping away the guise of the sticky honey within like it was just ordinary water. _Just all in a hard day's work._ It left me raw on the inside, cringing, trembling of the alcoholic fever that burned in my throat. I almost wanted to put that bottle down, it was so disgusting. But I couldn't stop, either. The pain was addicting. Addicting. Henry taught me about that. I guess Victoria did as well. After drinking half of the bottle, I must've passed out or something, I was so tired.

* * *

 _Henry? What is this?_

" _Here! Try it! It's delicious!"_

 _Hmm…wow! That tastes really good!_

" _This is 'candy'. Candy is made of a sweet thing called 'sugar'."_

 _I like sugar. I like candy._

" _Hey…no! You can't eat a whole jar of konpeito like that! You're only supposed to eat one!"_

 _But I want to eat it all!_

" _I can't spoil you like that, now…if you eat too much candy, you're gonna get addicted."_

 _What's addicted?_

" _That means you can't stop doing something, no matter what. If you eat too much candy, you'll get addicted and have to eat candy every single day to just survive. Your whole mouth will be all filled with sweet stuff and everything will start to taste bad because of it. Now come on!"_

 _NO! NO!_

" _Listen, Mack. When you get older, you're gonna meet a lot of people that are just like candy. They taste so good, they're so great to be around…and then when they're gone, really bad things happen 'cause you're not used to not being with them. You're gonna be miserable, depressed for the rest of your life! You don't want that to happen, do you?"_

 _No…_

" _So let's go."_

 _NO! Ouch!_

" _Don't make me slap you again. 'Cause believe me, I would if I didn't stop myself."_

 _WAAAH…!_

" _It's okay, it's okay. You'll be grateful for this moment when you get older. Just do as I say."_

 _I don't care if I can't stop eating candy no matter what! No! No!_

" _Do as I say. Good. Let's go home."_

* * *

I woke up to the ceiling fan and light shining above me, shining glaringly, forming an awful splotch in my eye. My eyes refused to open in the brightness, my head complained loudly of pain. _No one's following me today, huh? Will none of you just shut up and do what I say!?_ Everything going out of control. What happened to all the things you taught me? Where did all the things the young oshawott learned go to? Oh, right. I wasted all that screaming and shouting from Henry yanking me away from that candy on the female. The candy dangled on her costume jewelry, flowing out from her mellow voice, her roaring cries of liberation. I had way more than a jar's worth.

In the unnatural cleanliness of the living room, copious amounts of grit settled at the back of my throat—the discomfort turned the sumptuous, immaculate decorations to grimy, putrid reminders of a past love. Why didn't I leave earlier? Sheesh. Guess the deception from the bloodletting was to be all but fatal. I decided to go outside, leaving the empty bottle of whiskey behind. I could barely walk in straight line, but that was probably 'cause I had just evolved, and just getting used to my new self. That would take a while.

* * *

Two shocks in a night. The shock of a rejection. The shock of the street. I never really actually looked at or examined the street with open eyes when I was with Victoria. She had to keep her father happy, so she kept me behind a Pokeball most of the time. Why did she defy her father once the two us slipped under the covers? I stared at my reflection in a dirty rain puddle: samurott. "The Formidable Pokémon."

Victoria called me that sometimes, when she first found me at her doorstep. I'd seen her stunning form in the street, and I tracked her down at last, after many months. "The Formidable Pokémon". That's what she wanted me to evolve to eventually, if I worked hard enough. If I ravaged her hard enough with my scalchop, giving her satisfactory pleasure, I'd be duly rewarded with a glowing blue seamitar. "Discipline Pokémon" never worked with her; even though that was more correct to say. It just didn't sound right to her. In that sense, she knew me. Once she discovered my capacity to love, I was Mack: her mate. I was _her_ mate. I really thought I'd found someone like me. Someone like me, who took the joy in seeing pain. I saw how she loved it when she bled. But then what happened? Why'd she leave?

So many questions. Racing. Racing for my first attention. It was so painful, but I had to think. _Think! Think!_ Maybe it helped purge out the toxic tears that bled from the corners of my eyes. I was surprised at myself for being that way, and was going to punish myself for it…but there were other people around.

The wind was cold, but not like I really cared. It tossed up my fur, still stiff and tangled from the fresh, smooth blood on it, now turned stale and coagulated. The wind threatened to freeze the life force within me and take my body with it. I found an oyster bar after walking about five to seven blocks, but when I went in everyone screamed. I wasn't sure if it was 'cause I looked like hell or I just looked like…myself. Probably both. This place isn't friendly to pokémon.

I longed for a soft hearth rug to snuggle in; something that would caress me with its soft, mellow fibers. Instead the rough concrete pavement was the only thing that dared to hold the substantial weight of my evolved form up. After passing ten blocks, I turned into an alleyway that would be an inconspicuous place to sleep for the night. A smell of freshness came from there. The ocean. Sweet flesh. A memory so powerful that even the putrid odors of the dumpster was masked away. Turns out, the alleyway actually led to another oyster bar's back entrance. Following the smells of ocean, I finally found it: someone had thrown away a bag of perfectly good oysters into the street.

"Thank you, Arceus."

But then with every shucking of the shell: _Crak. Crak. Crak._ I heard the sound of the slamming door again, playing in my mind. I tried to sink into the brick wall where I sat against but the coarse pavement of the alleyway punished me with its rough edges slowly impaling into my already blood-soaked fur coat. I hated those oyster shells. _Crak. Crak._ I hated the rough pavement I sat on. The tears fell into the oysters' delicate flesh, and they tasted rancid in my mouth. I threw up on the damn sidewalk like a madman, burning my insides as it happened. And even after I felt like every ounce of life had poured out of me, a loose oyster shell dropped from my hand and hit the ground…the slamming door to my squeezed-shut eyes. I lost even more life to the tiny drops falling onto the rain-sopped pavement. Fuck, I hate Arceus. _Too late, I already thanked Him. Shit._

When I squinted my tear-stained eyes, I finally saw it there. It was just a glimmer of light, but its iridescence told me that it was what I thought it was. Its sleek, stunning body sat on that rough pavement. It was the perfect length of hand-forged stainless steel. The handle was solid hardwood and provided a perfect weight balance. The moonlight was bright enough for me to see my haggard reflection in the blade. _A lot of people are being careless today._

I let the whooshing sound of the katana form a sweet melody in the dark, sterile night. _Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh._ With every sound I felt the memories return. _I remember. 'I want that katana.' Yes. Yes! Henry!_ The dark alley was irrelevant. Everything was irrelevant. Not when Henry was by my side, helping me swing that katana. I didn't have to imagine I was hitting or killing anyone. The air was a satisfying enough victim. Her heart-wrenching cries of pain were perfect: _Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh._ My tears flowed out again, but I wasn't sad. I was never sad with the katana in my grasp.

Eventually I got tired—it was already past midnight, I think—and slumped onto the dark, wet alley floor, katana tightly grasped. I hadn't realized how exhausted I actually was wandering about the streets, before I chanced upon the katana. I guess I'd also lost a lot of blood from the series of events beforehand. _All that power, to find, all that power._

* * *

(Whew! That was a marathon. Thanks for reading...stay tuned for more.)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

" _Mack?"_

 _Yes, Henry?_

" _I've been your trainer for three years now. I've taught you a lot of things now: using the katana, talking in human speak, reading human speak, writing human speak; I think that you're ready for something new. Something else unique to us humans."_

 _Wow! There's more?_

" _Yes…there is. I'm gonna Liberate you."_

 _What does that mean?_

" _You've learned so about so many words, and the things they are. But do you know…what is the greatest thing of all?"_

 _What?_

" _Have you ever felt a time where you never wanted to lose something…you wanted it to just last forever?"_

 _What thing?_

" _Oh…I don't know. When you're together with someone special, sitting on a soft hearth rug, by a nice warm wood fire…"_

 _I'm not sure what you mean, Henry. That's not a Thing. A Thing is something you can touch, see, smell, hear, or taste. Nothing else exists._

" _You've learned well, Mack, you've learned well. But Liberation is a Thing. The best Thing that there is."_

 _What is it?_

" _I'll show you. Come up with me. Lie here in the bed. Yes. Right there. Now. Let me lie here. Gimme a bit of room. That's it._

" _Now, Mack. Look into my eyes. What do you see?"_

 _Ah! You're testing my English vocabulary. I see…"blue"…"white"…"eyelashes"…"eyeball"…"eyelid"…_

" _Very good, Mack, very good. Now let me liberate you, tell me what words you can use to describe 'Liberation'."_

* * *

 _The effortless swaying of a hoppip on a sunny, breezy day_...fizzling away under the disheartening overcast sky of midmorning. In the white and gray clouds, it became clear to me. The invisible sun must've been out or something, because I felt myself totally radiating, positively glowing with something.

I guess it reminded me of one of the TV shows I watched with Henry. It was a superhero show, a cartoon. This human kid, at first was just some normal kid, and on his way back from school he found this rock, lying in some nondescript cardboard box. Well, he was always so curious, and everyone else didn't dare touch it 'cause they were all these scared citizens that just did their regular thing, they didn't even venture out of a minute-by-minute routine 'cause they were scared of something different. No one would try anything different. It was all just the same old, same old. They were especially scared of that weird rock, so the police a while ago had carefully seized it and left it where supposedly, no one could find it. But not that kid, no. He was daring. He wasn't afraid of that glowing rock. He pulled the heavy rock towards him, touching his torso…and the magic red glow radiated from the rock into his body.

Turns out, it was a rock from a planet far far away, dropped off by aliens to give humans daring enough to venture a taste of their powers. The kid became unstoppable, savior of the day. He could demolish buildings, see into the future, all that shit and stuff. He saved the corporate officers from the tyranny of their heartless bosses. The officers, in their bloodless, perfectly crisp suit and ties—the hero wouldn't stand for society taking an icy turn, with frozen blood and emotion. For his body radiated with the ruby red life force, he could free the workers from their scurrying around like little minions about their sterile forest of cubicles. The building what took years to assemble, crumbled to bits under the Life Force of the hero in but a few seconds. The town was saved, for everyone was happy again. What glued my eyes to that TV program? What part of it made me so amazed by the flashing, vibrant heroics? What made the soft red glow of the hero play its reflection in my eyes, even after the TV turned black each night?

I hadn't remembered that show in a long time.

As I impaled my side with the katana, silky blood oozed out...Arceus, that fired me up. The ruby red liquid was the color of a flame; the radiant glow of the superhero. The more my old life drained out of me, the more I was invigorated by the weapon's invigorating silver sheen, siphoning out more and more blood. _For_ _the saber is most powerful when turned on the bearer himself._

 _Do not worry of General Mack. Let us hasten our endeavors! With bloodshed there shall be courage! Greater courage to rise up! Greater courage to battle!_ How ironic.

I set off that morning, the cut in my flesh painting a trail of dripping blood on the concrete floor. No one shall forget me. Not even the shitty back alleys, sooted from the grit of petty urchins. For I leave my mark. On Sara. On Victoria. On you, for the ink of this paper shall forever soot your eyes as well.

* * *

The mattress was the first to go. The first memory in the flood of memories when I entered the door was Victoria lying there on the bed, wearing that slutty red silk nightie. No one was home at the penthouse. Victoria had packed her stuff and left alone. I polished the katana a little. My reflection was clear. I attacked, the soul of the sword firmly ingrained in the lustrous blade. It sliced through with much effort at first, but with time the channeling of all the anger, and pain, and sorrows made it only the natural thing to do. Thank you, Victoria. For those slutty screams I learned from you shall fuel my destruction, my everlasting campaign. For I am General Mack! The indomitable one! Hear me cry!

"RAAGH!"

A whole tangled bunch of metal springs with shreds of white fabric remained. I imagined her lying in that shrapnel-laden mess, in that flimsy silk nightie, and I laughed.

Some oyster grit at the doorstep, and I shut the bedroom door, locking it and everything.

The white and red leather sofa (the red from last night) was the next memory, seeing her sitting there, playing with her phone as she always did. I imagined her phone cracked apart, her unprepared self crying in pain as the fearless katana came for her. I imagined her helplessly bleeding, the cuts stinging like mad, and I laughed at the bitch. It felt great to see that in my head. It made me hit harder. At one point, I thought I couldn't get through it. That sturdy, unbreakable metal frame that held Victoria up in a comfortable sitting position. But then as I continued hit the formidable metal frame, I heard the voices in the _whooshing_ blade, the sound of the impact. I heard lost souls from above calling me. _Mack, d'you hear me? D'you hear me? Mack!_ I knew there were others rooting for me. I had to focus. _Don't let them lose, General Mack! Destroy the fort! Show no mercy to that miserable bitch! Show no mercy to the sluts!_

"RAAGH!"

 _Snap!_

The telephone followed. Then the dining room. Then the bathroom. Then the other guest rooms. Then everything in the kitchen but the fridge. Then a snack of oysters from the fridge, then the fridge.

If she was home, imagine all the possible places she could be in pain while in her house. At first it didn't feel good when I saw what I had done, but I didn't cry; just kept on smiling and laughing. I was strong in spirit again, I was sure of that. After all that slashing I still saw my reflection in the blade, crystal clear, as if it was brand new.

"Thank you, Lost Souls. You have guided me well." I collapsed to the ground. The katana was knocked out of my hand, but that was fine. I could feel a new seamitar already sprouting out from my left side. It only decided to grow back when I had at last succeeded. I kept thanking the Lost Souls. "Thank you, Henry. Thank you, young oshawott."

Ever since then, I dreamt of Henry every night. Talked to the young oshawott in the air as well.

I hope I never feel the way I did with Victoria again. The flow of tears, like viscous honey, that dripped so painfully slow…that terrible, uncomfortable knot pulling like mad in my stomach when I saw the blood oozing from an injured Victoria; the sinking feeling, like drowning into a desolate ocean. When all the furniture had finally met their demise, those thoughts slowly vanished and my mind set itself straight again. Only Arceus knows how liberation could've turned from a breaking free into a watery prison of salty tears and vomit. I clenched my teeth more tightly as that thought slipped into my mind, but I got over it. Temporarily.

Perhaps I had already seen the signs early on in her. Our later sessions of Liberation, I saw the wrinkles of weariness on the corners of her eyes. I heard the flatter, drier tone in her voice, turning more so every night. I smelled that her natural perfume of fresh oysters and a misty seashore at dawn…had turned rancid. I felt the emaciation on her forearms from disinterest in foods of passion. I tasted the beginnings of decay in her warm breath, too soon appearing considering her age.

Perhaps I wringed out too much from her. I wringed out so much; like a wet dishcloth where I'd twisted it so far, too far—until the last drop of water oozed from its sweet fibers. The dry dishcloth that is Victoria now can be rehydrated in the salty ocean where she now lays. She will serve a new purpose; maybe bring the fluid of question to my parched brain.

But that was the last time I let that poison cloud my judgment _. I shall be immune now, considering how much it has hurt me._ _Next time, the dirty work is immediate—no hesitation. Henry and the Young Oshawott will talk some sense into me. Every night, they will remind me._


	12. Chapter 12

SARA: TRAINER #12

* * *

Chapter 12

"Here, Mack, drink some more water." Sara offered a glass. I'd been struck with this horrible fever, ever since I came back from that log house. Also, it'd been pouring like mad the past few days. Even though it was early autumn, I found myself freezing cold under the heavy down comforter. I didn't do much more than eat and sleep. Every sip was water was difficult as I trembled, my body shivering, cold and clammy. Yet an unnatural fire still raged through the fibers of my being. I was even off my food. One raw oyster made me sick like hell. All I could eat was this…porridge, that Sara cooked up for me. No salt, no meat, no nothing. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that _that_ porridge what was actually what Nothing tasted like. _Blech._

All those days I really didn't have the strength to move around or anything, _and_ the food refused to serve their distraction duty, so I spent much of my day flipping through all the TV channels. I tried not to, but I keep finding myself on the romance movie channel. I never really watched these sorts of shows with Henry, so it was something new. There was always a woman with way too much makeup on her face, who would fall in love with this man with rippling muscles and always toying with a cigarette, trying to act all cool and stuff. They would meet, and slowly get closer to each other. After a while, they would start holding hands. Then, lean in a bit closer to each other. Then, their lips would touch. Then, they would go the bedroom. But then after that the plot would just start to get really boring. After the man and woman were together for about a year or so, they wouldn't do anything different. Same as they always did. They would go to the park every day, and sit on that same park bench that they would go to since they first met. My eyes would start to droop, and I'd begin to think about me.

And that made feel bad. So I would turn off the TV until they weren't so safe anymore, just leaning on each other on that idyllic park bench. The next day, I would turn on the TV again; the same show was on. Now, they were still in the park; but the man and the woman were shouting at each other. The woman was pushing him against the wall, shouting a tirade of insults at him. Wild pokémon gathered around, as did people who didn't have the politeness to ignore them. Later that night, they were back at home, and the arguing continued, and soon went to physical punching and kicking. That whole episode was just that: shouting, hitting, fighting. Part of my body fired up as I watched the man punch her, begging to me "Get out of bed, you little fucker! Show them how powerful you are!" But then another part was like a thick blanket over the fire; it didn't say a word to me. It was so silent, but maybe that's what made it so powerful in my mind. I felt the heavy down blanket fall over me on the bed. After a long night of fighting, the man watched as the woman slowly collapsed, and with all the energy she had left, grabbed her stuff and left out the front door.

And that also made me feel bad. I don't get it. I mean, she's not even a real character. Why'd that pit in my stomach decide to set up shop? Those questions would slowly bring me to a painfully brief slumber. When I would wake, I'd pick where I'd left off: a frazzled, restless mind, ravaged by thought. I never really got any good rest.

Overall, I was really amazed at how just a few words turned them in an instant from soft-spoken and calm to shouting maniacally. Like when the guy said "Yes, I had an affair with her." To the woman. Boy, she went nuts. Stuff went flying at him: books, wilted flowers, you name it. Words mean things—that's what I know. Why did those things the guy said make the woman shout like that? I never really thought much about it then, however. My fever was starting to climb again near the end of the program, when the guy had just married the girl he had had the affair with and they'd gone to the bedroom after the ceremony. I suddenly felt like Liberating someone, in my hot, flushed state. That was strange.

I turned the TV off, and tried to fall asleep as quickly as I could so I wouldn't be sinking again.

* * *

 _Henry?_

" _Yes, Mack?"_

 _Why is water coming out of that woman's eyes?_

" _Because she's crying, Mack. All pokémon cry, as well as humans."_

 _Why is she crying?_

" _See that concrete box over there? Inside that box is the body of her son."_

 _Her son died?_

" _Yes. He was always up to mischief, mind you, before he died. I know his family in Undella Town quite well, actually. The son never listened to his father or mother, always wanted to go do bad stuff in town. He was a real headache for the police, y'know._

" _But then the narcotic Berries got the better of him, and he's spent the past few years a degenerate addict. His father quickly disowned him and moved to Mistralton._

" _But all this time, his mom stayed by his side, even gave him cash support for his rehab. But once he hooked, he was always hooked. Spent all that clean money on more hard drugs._

" _Finally, a guy who he owed a lot of money came to his home at night and stabbed him 20-something times. It was a sight to see when the police found him, so I've heard. But…that's why the woman is crying."_

 _But why is she crying? Everyone should be happy, now that a bad person is dead._

" _I don't get it myself either, Mack. Something called 'love', as they say."_

 _I don't get love._

" _Neither do I. Come on. Let us laugh and celebrate together, now that the bad person is dead."_

 _HAHAHA!_

* * *

Sleeping was a perfect escape: all of sudden, the weight of sickness was lifted off my shoulders, and I could be free. Sometimes, like this time round, I'd even be quietly laughing when I woke, from the dream I'd just had. But every night, I was always sure to meet the young oshawott, snuggling on the soft hearth rug, beaming with a smile across his face. I'd see Oscar, his Floatzel, Victoria, and Matt. They scared me at first, but when I reached to touch them they were just putty in my hands. I molded them into a shape, my claws scratching effortlessly into the malleable surface. You would hear their cries of pain, but then you could silence them by sealing the mouth. You would see their bodies flailing and struggling, but then you could stop them by opening their chest and molding their heart into an indistinguishable form that could not beat anymore. And soon you had this lump of homogenous goo, engineered from the bewilderingly intricate machinery of complex monsters. It was perfect.

Then, I'd see the ocean at Undella Town. The blue, cascading waves; perfect, crystal blue sky; and sitting casually in the soft sand. _I love the beach._ The sun would bake me to a near crisp, and the cool, refreshing water quickly offered me respite. Sometimes when I shuck an oyster, I swear I'll smell the musk of Henry, right there, sitting on the beach.

I didn't follow any schedule during those weeks. At one point, I woke around 4am, greeted by the dim moonlight and the icy chill of fever. My eyes popped as wide open as they could, and they saw…a blush-black. I was delirious: the panting, the dark surroundings, the rampant shivering—there was only one explanation. Fear made me shake even more as I thought of it.

"I'm sinking! I'm sinking! Help me! Don't kill me now!" I remembered the wonderful times I had at the oceanside; I was slowly drowning in my pleasure, I was sure of it. I felt myself go deeper…deeper…deeper…eventually I'd reach the floor. Where the bottom-feeding oysters would seek nourishment from my carcass. How ironic. This life must be killing me.

"Mack! What is it? Are you okay?" Sara turned on the light, and all those thoughts fizzled away. I was Mack, a samurott who was very much alive, in a human-made house, with a young female trainer: Sara. "Aww we're not feeling real well at all today, are we?"

"Samu…" I whimpered.

"Come, I'll get my raincoat, then I'll take you to the pokémon center, okay?"

* * *

(Stay tuned, there's more to come...)


	13. Chapter 13

(As always, thanks for reading! Be sure to comment on your thoughts! Things get strange in this chapter...)

* * *

Chapter 13

"Nothing serious…" the Nurse said to Sara. "I'd give him plenty of fluids and rest. The medicine I've given should help him recover. And avoid battling, if you can: he's in rather a fragile state."

"Oh…I don't really battle." Sara chuckled. "But thank you, Nurse Joy."

"No problem. And by the way…"—she lowered her voice—"…your samurott has gained quite a bit of weight. It would be advisable to give him some exercise, even if he doesn't battle."

"Oh, I see. And…erm…sorry about the way my samurott behaved. He's…a bit…"

"Oh, it's perfectly understandable. If you'll return tomorrow, we'll check on how he's doing!"

I had the most unpleasurable experience at the pokémon center. I closed my eyes most of the time, though I think it was this really dark room that I was placed in. Pricks of pain shot through my back. They had four freakin' men holding me down so I couldn't even move. I screamed as loud as I could, but the sounds were nothing to their fucking deaf ears. I didn't know they used a weapon to heal at the pokémon center. Felt like a needle of some sort. But if that was the case, I could heal _myself_ , with my _own_ blue, glowing blade. I do it all the time. Oh, how much I wanted to take that weapon from their filthy hands and plunge it straight through those humans. But I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. And for a while I couldn't even feel anything from the head down after one particular prick of pain.

 _Arceus, I hate the pokémon center._

* * *

 _Henry?_

" _Yes, Mack?"_

 _Why are there humans lying on the ground and not getting up?_

" _Because they were in the war, Mack. This movie is about the war and the people in the war."_

 _Henry!_

" _What is it?"_

 _There's a hole in that man's chest!_

 _Blood is coming out!_

 _He's…he's falling to the ground—ah!_

" _Stop! Don't turn away, Mack! Be brave, look at the screen!"_

 _Ah…_

" _Look. At. The. Screen."_

 _Ah…hole…blood…falling…falling…_

" _I won't say it again. Turn your damn head away from the floor and look. Look at the blood flow from him. Just look at it! How fast it oozes out. How fast it flows. How much comes out._

" _See me; how I laugh at this, all this blood. HAHAHA! I can hardly control myself! C'mon! Repeat after me. HAHAHA!"_

 _Ha…ha…Henry…more…more people have holes in their chests now. More blood's coming out…Henry! Henry!_

" _HAHAHA!"_

 _Henry!_

" _HAHAHA! C'mon, laugh with me!"_

 _Ha…ha…ha…_

" _That's it. That's it. Louder now."_

 _Ha…ha…ha. No, I…I can't._

" _Oh. Erm. Well, just watch then. At least watch for a while."_

 _Okay._

 _BANG! BANG!_

 _Blood…falling…falling…ha._

 _BANG! BOOM!_

 _Hole in chest…blood…blood…ha. Ha. Ha. Ha._

 _BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA…BOOM!_

 _Hit the ground…blood…blood…ha. Ha. Ha. Ha._

 _BANG!_

 _Ha._

 _BANG!_

 _Ha._

 _BOOM!_

 _Ha…Henry!_

" _What is it?"_

 _That…that thing just blew up from the ground!_

 _Smoke is going everywhere!_

" _That's right, Mack. Those people walked over a land mine. So the land mine exploded."_

 _People are flying into the air! They're flying! They're flying, Henry, they're flying!_

" _Yes, Mack. They're flying into the air because the land mine hit them."_

 _Is it good that they're flying?_

" _See those thirty people that are now on the ground? They put in many months and months of effort to break through the enemy lines, all for the sake of their country, fighting for what is right. And after all the suffering they've finally been rewarded for their selfless efforts, you see? They can fly now. And even after the landmine has exploded, they'll still be flying forever. Right into the Divine arms of Arceus. So yes, Mack, it's a good thing that the landmine hit them… it's good that they're now all flying."_

 _Really?_

" _Yes, Mack."_

 _Henry! More people are flying! Another land mine exploded! I wish I could fly with them._

" _It's your dream, Mack…chase after it!"_

 _Wow…I'd like to fly. Just like them. Fly into the air like that. Ha! Ha! HA! HAHAHA!_

 _HAHAHA!_

" _Yes! Yes! You've got it, Mack! You've done it! You've got the laugh! Now, see! Another man has a hole in his chest! C'mon! Laugh with me! HAHAHA!"_

 _HAHAHA!_

" _HAHAHA!"_

 _HAHAHA!_

" _HAHAHA!"_

 _HAHAHA!_

" _HAHA…haha…ha…oh. The movie's already over. Whew. We spent the whole time just laughing. You laughed really loud, Mack; I could barely hear any sound from the movie at all!"_

 _HAHA! HA…why have we stopped!? Keep laughing!_

" _Mack, the movie's over."_

 _Keep laughing!_

" _Mack—"_

 _KEEP LAUGHING! HAHAHA! HAHAHA!_

" _Mack—"_

 _HAHAHA!_

 _HAHAHA!_

" _Argh…SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET TO BED, OKAY!?"_

 _I don't want to go to bed!_

" _I don't care, you're coming with me to the bedroom. Come! Now!"_

 _But Henry—no! No! I don't want to go to bed! I don't wanna be in my bedroom! I wanna be in the living room where I can laugh!_

" _It's after midnight, Mack. Get the fuck to sleep."_

 _I wanna laugh!_

" _Fine! Laugh by yourself! Look like a total psychopath, laughing by yourself! I don't care anymore. I'm going to bed. Laugh all the fuck you want; just stay in your bed."_

 _SLAM!_

 _Good. He's gone. I can laugh all I want now._

 _HAHAHA!_

 _Ah._

 _Hmm._

 _HAHAHA!_

 _Hmm._

 _Ah._

 _Ah._

 _HAHAHA! BLOOD! HOLE IN CHEST! SCREAMING! FALLING! FALLING! FALLING!_

 _LAUGHING! HAHAHA!_

 _HA…haha! Blood…ha…screaming…ha…haaaa…haaaa…haaaa…Henry! Henry!_

 _Henry! Henry!_

 _Ah._

 _Ah._

" _What is it, Mack!? It's the middle of the damn night. Don't cry. Don't cry, you idiot! What in hell's wrong?"_

 _Blood…falling…_

 _Falling…_

 _Fall…_

 _I don't feel good, Henry. I can't sleep._

" _Close your eyes, at least."_

 _But if I close my eyes, I hear the screaming, and the BANG BANG BOOM, and I see all the blood, and the hole in the chest, and the filling._

" _Well…well…lie down, on your pillow. That's it."_

 _I…feel sick. I think I'm…I'm…_

" _Mack! Stop that!"_

 _I…can't…I have to throw up._

 _BLECH!_

 _BLECH!_

" _Hmm. Let me sing a song for you. Songs always make people happy. It made the soldiers in the film happy, when they sang songs together."_

 _It's cold. It's really cold. I don't like cold…! The cold makes me scared. Look! I'm shiver…I'm shivering! Shivering! Ah!_

" _I'll lay beside you, so you'll be warm. C'mon, pull your blanket in. Okay. Here goes."_

" _There'll be no hate…"_

 _Cold…_

" _I shan't be late…"_

 _Scared…_

" _To save the World."_

 _Cold…_

" _So, let us fight…"_

 _Scared…_

" _Friends die…they might…"_

 _Cold…_

" _But we have won."_

 _Scared…_

" _Let there be peace…"_

 _Scared…_

" _Let there…be sleep…"_

 _S…_

* * *

(To be continued...)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I had slept a really long time, so much that when I woke, the sun was pouring through the window. Normally I wake up before Henry starts his gentle tune, but tonight the sleeping bug bit me long enough so the silky melody would creep to my ears again. Who needs a video recorder, when all the memories are played back to me, every night? I tried to snuggle deep into the sheets, squeeze my eyes as tight as I could, but even then the bright orange light of the sun told me it was time to get up. Not that I minded.

I hadn't slept so well in a long time. You know, they say after abundant sleep, you become young and vibrant again. Your skin firms up, your muscles are less achy, and you have a shitload of energy. All the years will seem to just slip away: years of pains, grievances, trials and tribulations; gone. I let the pressing weight of the down comforter—which now felt way too warm for early autumn—slip from my back, and it fell effortlessly away. I was a lot lighter now.

I couldn't stop giggling. I was all jittery, wanting to just throw myself out of bed and greet the morning. But I had to wait for Sara. She always would come to my bedroom every morning, this bright, cheery morning smile on her face. I couldn't wait for the door to open and hear, in that jolly morning voice, "Hello, Mack!". I can barely move when I first wake up. Her, on the other hand she, she can leap straight outta bed, change out of her warm, snuggly PJs, open my bedroom door, and say…

"Morning, my little sunshine!" She said, beaming as she entered. "My, you slept _really_ well last night, didn't you, honey…?"

"Samu!" I was smiling. Damn it, I was actually smiling! After so many weeks in bed, rain pecking at the window, my eyes glued to the story of the TV of a man and woman together. Everything was just so nice, having Sara squeeze at my pudgy face, stroke my silky fur, the sunlight pouring in, illuminating the bright white sheets. She had my favorite food on a breakfast tray: these really fresh, raw oysters purchased straight from the pier. I heard them wobble about on the flat breakfast tray, the sweet sound of the oyster cracking open playing in my mind as a soothing mantra. _Crak. Crak. Crak._

"Aren't you hungry? I guess you haven't eaten these past few weeks, have you?"

"Samu…" I was at my seventh oyster already. Sara always let me shuck them open with my seamitar; she knew how much I liked to break things. _Crak. Crak._ The resulting empty shells would pile up on the breakfast tray, weighing down on me, but Sara would quickly take them away and toss them in the trash can. She never let the burden be too heavy, and potentially break and fall like an avalanche upon my delicate, well-slept, youthful body. Nothing could weigh down the light of the morning sun, the light air I breathed in gratefully, the lightness I experienced as the heavy blanket slipped away. _No fucking oyster shell can stop me. Crak. Toss away. Crak. Toss away._

Well, that's all I did in bed that morning. Let Sara cuddle me, and eat the best oysters I'd had in a long time. Funny how I didn't even think once of the time at the Nuvema Pier, with Oscar, Matt and Victoria—which fresh-caught oysters never ceased to remind me of. Or the time at Ferris Wheel with Victoria, and there was an earthquake—which a young female human holding me close always reminded of. I just heard those cumbersome oyster shells being tossed into the trash, the load of the breakfast tray becoming lighter, and lighter, and lighter, with every passing minute. It was nice to see the weight disappear…be lifted away, for a change.

"Wow, it's gonna be a really hot day," Victoria commented as she opened the window. "Now you're all better, do you want to play with the sprinkler outside?"

"Samu! Samu!"

We were outside in the backyard. Fresh water continued to spray out from the yellow plastic sprinkler. Claws entrenched in the soil, trying to preserve my grounded footing, I stared motionless at the airborne droplets. Even though my fur would protect me from the chilly water, I was really scared. How do I explain it? Each little droplet got bigger, and bigger. My footing grew wobblier as the wall of water in front of me grew. The longer I stared at it, the higher and farther reaching the spray seemed: higher, higher…forcing my neck to strain and look up at it, to see the top. But as my head tilted up; that was when I heard his voice above: the young oshawott calling to me. He had taken me. His divine youth filtered through my fur, into each little fiber of my being. At last. He has come to me. He came, as I knew he always would. It was like I was...a little oshawott...all over again, for just two hours.

* * *

My name is Mack. I am a samurott. I am twenty-six years out of my egg. I am a pokémon but even though I am a pokémon I can still read and write. Henry taught me how to read and write since I was an oshawott. Now I am a samurott. Now I can do it all by myself!

This is my story of when I played with water for two hours one afternoon. I was sweating a lot. My teeth shook, and my tummy felt funny. Sara laughed at me because of that. I didn't like that. If I crossed the thing that had water coming out of it, Sara wouldn't laugh at me anymore. That would be nice.

So I had to cross it. I had to be really really brave, like Henry taught me. So I closed my eyes _really really_ tight. I got ready, then ran _very very_ fast, zoom! Swoop! Straight through the water! BAM! I ran straight into Sara's body on the other side of the water. I fell down and then Sara tickled my tummy. The next time I tried not to fall down. But after I ran through the water, I wasn't strong enough to stand back up. Each time, I fell on the ground. I rolled around the grass like a tiny little oshawott. It felt really nice after a while.

"Samu…sam—hehehe!" I said.

"Tickle! Tickle!" Sara said.

"Sam—hehe!" I said.

"Tickle tickle!" Sara said.

"Sammy! Sammy!" My voice sounded a lot like.

I ran through the thing with water coming out again. It was good. So I ran through again. The water was cold, at first. But later, it was warm. Warm felt nice. This is why I like warm. I was sick for a long time. When you're sick, you're always really cold. No matter what you do, you always are cold. Even when I had my warm blankie with me, I was cold. I don't like cold. So that's why I like warm.

I ran through the water and hit Sara again. I know paragraphs have to be. Five sentences or more. But I can't. Think of anything else to write.

"Ouch! Oof! Mack, you _are_ getting heavy!" Sara said when I hit her.

"Samu!" I said. I screamed because I wanted her to tickle my tummy.

"Oh…all right. Tickle tickle tickle!"

"Sam—hehehe!" I said.

I went back to the other side. I ran through the water and hit Sara again. She screamed. That felt nice. I like to hear that. Screams make me laugh really hard. Henry also likes it too when people scream like that. This is why I like to hear screams. I was really happy when I was with Henry. When he liberated me, me and Henry screamed at the end. I felt good when I screamed. So screams must mean a good thing. So that's why I like to hear screams.

"Arrgh! Ouch, Arceus, that hurts! AAAH!" Sara said when I ran through the water and hit her the 17-millionth time.

"Hehehe!" I laughed, even though she didn't tickle my tummy.

"AAAH! that's painful…AAAH!" Sara said.

"Hehehe!" I said.

AAAAAH! Ouch…Arceus…" Sara said.

"HEHEHE!" I said.

"Oh…ooh…" Sara said. "I'm beat. Mack, dear…ooh, ouch….how about…we go inside and…ow…have a snack?"

"Samu!" I said. I went with Sara.

"Are you hungry?"

"Samu…!" I'm _always_ hungry.

"Would you like some more oysters from the Nuvema Pier?"

 _Crak._ The shells broke open. And with that, the bloody memories locked inside came flooding back again. " _Nuvema Pier"._ Shit. Should've known it was too fragile to be forever youthful.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It was one of those early autumn days. One day it's all warm and sunny, then the next day the cold air from the mountains plunges down towards the seashore. The cold isn't good for me. I swear, I tried to stay under the heating most of the night before. But still I was in bed again, those too-familiar sheets over me, that unadorned white ceiling to stare at again. With a high fever, I could barely reach to just get some water on the bedside table without shivering like I was having a damn seizure or something. My eyes were puffed and creased, my sinuses inflamed, my muscles sore and achy; _Arceus, is this what I'll be like when I'm older? No, you fucking idiot. This is what you are now._

"C'mon Mack," Sara shouted through the door, in that damn "jolly morning voice" of hers. I reached to cover my ears.

"C'mon Mack…! It's time for your checkup!"

"Samu…!"

"Mack…we're late already!"

"Samu…!"

"Oh…you leave me no choice." I felt the effortless suction as I moved towards Sara, at the behest of the pokéball she kept in her purse, but rarely ever used at all.

The experience of the checkup wasn't as nearly as bad as the previous time. They only put one needle in me, to cure me from some disease, and most of the time Nurse Joy just touched me with her stethoscope, saying "Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm." Normally the metal would be cold, but Nurse Joy always knew to warm it up with her breath before placing it on me. I especially enjoyed when she hit my front legs with the reflex hammer. She'd hold the hammer in her right hand, and then kneel down so I saw her chest. It made me feel kinda weird. Like the same feeling when Victoria pulled me in really tightly and pushed her way through the crowd at the Café Sonata. _Oh, Arceus, that sweet melody she sang. Will I ever forget? Not when the floodgates are opened in my mind, in my…_

"Don't cry, dear!" The Nurse looked up at me. "You won't have to stand still for much longer," she giggled at me. "Just need to get a good response with this hammer."

I snapped back to reality, focusing on Nurse Joy and her chest again. "Samu samu…" _Take all the time you want._ I definitely had a good response. I don't know why she didn't notice it. Actually, I think she was trying to ignore it. I saw her glancing at it, albeit briefly.

* * *

"He did _much_ better today, Ms. Ryman," the Nurse concluded to Sara. "He is running a temperature, so I'd give him an fever reducer medication. You can get it at the pharmacy, down the hall and the first right."

"Thank you. Mack, you stay here in the waiting room, all right? I'll be right back."

"Samu."

It seemed rather busy for a weekday morning. Young trainers thronged around the Nuvema Pokémon Center, hope bursting in their eyes as they lined up to have their pokémon checked up and ready for their journey together. At the same time, veteran trainers were returning back home, sorting through their collection of pokémon from all corners of the region. It was quite a chaos. Young trainers fidgeted uncontrollably as they lined up behind the only PC in the small pokémon center. Loud, noisy, arguments over the last videophone or Pokéblock machine. Screams of frustration, sighs of despondence, groans of boredom. And yet it was a place of hope, dreams waiting to germinate. What an irony.

Amidst the hectic crowds and noise, their pokémon stayed close to their respective trainers, clinging on to their pant legs and never letting go. None of them made a sound. They all seemed either nervous for the long adventure ahead, or weary from months of travelling and nonstop battles.

I watched from afar, as much my body tensed up and pulled me closer to the crowd. No way my giant, quadruped self would fit through the forest of the people. Every time I had the chance, I would turn and look at them and their blindly compliant peons: watch them groom their immaculate fur, feed them the best berry blends, command them to heel by their side and never leave. Heck, I probably know even more about them then they themselves probably do. It helps to look at everything from the outside, you know. It's hard to see the horrid mess of people you're trapped in when you—a young trainer of only ten, just starting out—only stare at that unflagging smile of your starter pokémon—mesmerized by its youth, and the hope it holds in its eyes. I could never learn this much if I tried to talk with these humans, anyway. It was nice to look at them, through the one-way mirror that made me invisible to them.

Except for one, who moved through the crowd of humans and pokémon freely. She was easy to pick out, the way she bounced about the lobby, giggling at the woefully obedient pokémon by their trainers' side.

She had flawless complexion, her flesh plump and radiant, and those eyes: so pristine and fragile, a perfect reflection of my own eyes, staring at her pupils. She was hopping around the waiting area, no doubt being a bit unruly because of her age and her own trainer being outside, talking with a friend. My fever drained as sweat—a cooling refreshment from the days of torture I had endured alone in bed—as I watched my new companion giggle so lightly, glide so gently across the waiting room chairs; no one could stop themselves from smiling at that young emolga. She had been practicing her flying skills, still limited to mostly gliding at her early stage of life. But that was okay. Gliding seemed to suit her better, the way her tiny little body, helpless on the ground in the forest of people, could nimbly creep up a tall potted plant, and take off, gliding above all their sorry heads. The vast space of the pokémon center lobby no longer frightened her eyes, voraciously exploring the space her tiny body could not seize just walking on the ground. She'd giggle like crazy every time she got airborne. I know _I_ would if my bulky, grounded adult form could reach and seize that sky. I'd waited too long.

Pushing off the potted plant, the emolga had almost reached the sofa at the edge but would always fall a few feet short of the edge. Being young and fragile in willpower, she'd sigh in dejection, sitting on the ground, maybe a tear or two shed, but eventually grew restless again and start up the same potted plant again. It wasn't like she could help herself. She had the comfort in knowing she was young. There was precious time. With time, she would grow and mature past this stage. With time, she would be stronger. With time, she could swoop above mountains, across valleys and oceans. The end was just so much farther away. How my envy boiled at the luxury of time that she could bask in. There're so many things I've wanted to try, even now...if I only had the time the young emolga had, the young oshawott. Oh, what I would give to capture more time, more youth. I thought if I stared at her long enough, these years of mine would slip away.

"Let me just get my phone," I heard outside, before the door swung open, and the emolga's trainer went inside the center.

"Erika!" The trainer barked at his pokémon. "What _are_ you doing, jumping around like that indoors!? That's not the way to behave! Stop that!"

"…molga!" She wailed.

The trainer's cold hands, crackling with deep, jagged veins, seized the emolga with a vise-like grip. Her cries and rampant thrashing hardly convinced him to let go. The last time she took off, she had almost gotten to the sofa. Maybe just a couple of inches away at most. The next time, she was ready. She was gonna make it, I was sure of it! But the solid guarantee was shattered in the trainer's merciless hands, spreading the pain that hurt like the shards of broken oyster shells, shattered by the katana. I always would think it'd be easier to chop the gritty nuisance into pieces to dispose of it, but it just makes the pain, the burden worse. I have to sweep up the shards eventually, and it's _not_ a pleasant task.

"Now you sit here, Erika, and _don't_ move!" The trainer shouted so loudly that the whole pokémon center could hear. The emolga sulked at his words.

The door closed shut behind him, and the trainer resumed talking with the friend outside. The young pokémon sat, intimidated by the world that seemed so much bigger and scary when she now sat on the sofa she had planned to reach from the air. Now she was curled up, tightly, not even daring to take a glimpse of the vast, high ceilings above her. Her eyes expanded in desolation, reflecting the many fluorescent lights above: little pieces of konpeito I had seized when I was an oshawott, lying right there, on the surface of her eyes. How I did seize the jar of candy when I was little. Jumping with joy, an uncrushable smile across my face, hyper from all that sugar at once, kicking, thrashing about. The toxic sweats of infection and fever soon drained all the weight from me. I was so much lighter, so much freer…all because of those eyes. I don't think I even blinked the whole ten minutes the emolga sat there, curled up, her sadness assuaged by the passing hours of inactivity. It was only natural for such a lively youth to bounce back to the giddy heights of happiness, the smile she normally bore returning to her face once again. As she shifted her gaze, my eyes did the same; as her eyelids fluttered, my heart fluttered in sync. _Go! Go! Ouch._

The one-way mirror stubbornly blocked my advance. What had once been a tool had turned to nothing more than a wall to break. I would start to walk to her, then it would stop me. I would cry at my inability to overcome the barrier; but you couldn't see my tears either, like the rest of my body, I was _not visible_. Ugh. That sounded terrible.

Then those deep brown eyes, the speckled, candy-like reflections, beckoned me…and the mirror vanished when she caught sight of me. I proceeded to the young one that was waiting for me; all this time.

"Well, hello there." That's what Henry said to me. Seemed like a good introduction.

Her carefree smile soon faded, her eyes quickly turning solid and dull from terror. "WAAGH! Who are you!? AAAH! Marco! Marco!"

"Your trainer can't understand you, dear." I tried to mimic the young emolga's care-free giggle, but I choked. Something heavy in my breath.

She examined me with those wide, gaping eyes, her curiosity impossible to quench. She gazed at the bright blue seamitar that I had pulled out. She touched the thick armor the lined parts of my body. She walked up to me, those eyes of profundity staring up. I could tell anything to those eyes. My past with Henry, Victoria, and all the other trainers whose lives I had seized and she would not judge. Youth never does. She began to speak. My eyes closed to savor the moment the sweet words would reach my ears, the sweet, innocent words of youth…

"You're fat."

I opened an eye. "What?"

"I've never seen a pokémon so fat like you. Like, all the samurott that have been here are all big and strong and muscular. Who's your trainer?"

"None of your business! I'm not gonna tell you…! And stop touching my seamitar! It's mine!"

"Don't hit me!" My seamitar was raised.

"I…I won't," I found myself saying.

"Erika! It's time to go!" Her trainer's voice called out.

"Erika? Where are you?" My large body surrounded that young emolga. I had to protect her from the evil eyes of Marco, scouting around like a braviary hunting for prey. It was disgusting.

I stared at her. She trembled like mad. "You are trembling. What's wrong? You scared?"

"Em…emugh…"

"I can't hear you, honey. Say a word I'll know."

"S…scared…"

"Heh. _That's_ better. Now don't be scared dear…hehe. Come with me."

More tears oozed out of her. "I have to go back to my trainer so he can give a shower and give me dinner and put me to bed and take me to battling practice and and and so please please please please let me go!"

"He's not worthy of you, dear. He's the scum of the earth, y'know. The shit that bottom-feeding oysters feed on. You just don't know it."

"How dare you call my trainer like that!" Her saliva spurted onto my fur. "He's really nice! He makes the best pokémon food at home and takes me battling! I don't wanna go with a morbidly obese samurott." She examined my body again.

My breathing grew heavy and labored, like it usually was. _So much for rekindling youth._ "Argh…screw him! Come with me." The sharp point of the seamitar pressed into her flesh.

"Look I…" Her eyes grew worried at my escalating anger.

"Come with me! You can't leave now." I pressed a little bit harder.

"But…"

"You're wasting time." I know I did. "No one likes to waste time." I pressed the blade even deeper, then she gagged. I quickly pulled away my blade but kept under my careful watch. Her young, pure face was now soiled by salty, stinging sweat. Her whole body was trembling at the sight of me. All the life just drained as I pressed the point of my seamitar into her. Arceus, she was _scared_ of me.

"I'll treat you well, honey. I have a feeling we're gonna be together for a long, long time. I'm gonna take you to my nice, tiny, little log cabin, and…I'll make you happy, beyond what any of those fucking humans could fathom with their tiny little retarded brains." As I leaned in closer, I could smell her almost floral scent of infancy. She couldn't have been out of her egg for five, six months.

"Get…get off me! No! Marco gives me a hot bubble bath every day! I want him! I like him better!"

"We can do that too, and you know what else we can do…?" I could barely control my laughter. Her mouth, eyes face, ears, _everything_ was trembling. It was great.

"No…no…!" She managed to say, even though the copious tears were choking her every second by this point.

"What? You don't want a hot bath? We can do other stuff, whatever you want!"

"NO, I DON'T WANT YOU, I WANT MARCO!"

"You…you wanna prove that that… _human_ treats you better? That you can't live without that son of a bitch? Fight me! And I'll prove you wrong!"

Her cries quickly faded. "Really?"

"Why not…? You fight with your attacks, I'll fight with mine."

"Heh, what d'you mean? That goes without saying. All right!" She thought out loud. The speckled reflection in her eyes faded, giving way to a dark, burning flame, camouflaged by her deep brown eyes. I should've known what she was hiding. I should've seen that the cheery, youthful konpeito reflections were nothing more than a façade.

Arceus, she was powerful, despite her age. Before I could even lunge forward with my razor-sharp seamitar, the thunder shock hit me. The ground below me exploded in a stinging fire, my muscles fired in wild, unpredictable directions. The extra weight I carried was all but extra momentum. I slipped about the floor, unable to stand, before I finally lost my footing and fell.

"Argh…shit!" Rage forced me from the hard ground I had fallen on. "All right…is that how you wanna play this game, huh? All right!" The water began to build up inside me, pulling from every hydrated fiber in my muscles and organs. I was about to collapse from exhaustion, but the evil flame in that deceiving little emolga's eyes let the supply of water accumulate, to extinguish it. The weight was soon a severe encumbrance that had to be ejected at great speed. My legs trembled as it supported the immense weight. The Hydro Pump was ready.

The torrent of water I released hit against the solid concrete wall where the emolga was standing, drenching me in a thick spray that blocked my vision for at least a minute. When I thought the water was running out, I found even more to fuel the beam of destruction that shook every fiber of my body as it travelled through my system. Even I was amazed at my own power. _Arceus, this is gonna be great. There's no way that little emolga can get outta this one._ As the water faded, I saw the emolga had ran away under the obstruction of the mist, and crouched under the sofa: unscathed by the powerful attack.

"Look at you! _You're_ all wet, and _I'm_ all dry! Hehe!" The little shit giggled at me. My head reeled from the jet of water that had rushed through. Before I could strike her again, another Thunder Shock travelled through the wet floor and through my soaked fur, my eyes obstructed by a bright yellow, flashing strobe, my body at the nonexistent mercy of the electric current. It was the Hydro Pump. Water Gun wouldn't have splashed nearly as hard and drenched me in water. _How my own attack held to my demise…fuck._ With that word left on my mind, my body fell to the floor, motionless.

"You think you've defeated me? Huh?" I shouted from the ground as the emolga began walking away, back to her trainer. "Is that what you think, you little dipshit? Well, y'know what? I've got an attack that'll beat _all_ your little fucking attacks! The Best Thing of All! It's called—"

"Mack?" A familiar voice called.

"Mack!"

I turned to see Sara. "It's time to go, Mack. What? Why are you on the ground? And what is this whole mess of water all over the floor? And the dent in the concrete wall? Did you do this? Hmm? You've been a _bad_ pokémon, Mack. Get up! You're going home _right_ now."

I took one last glance at the electric pokémon, and walked away. _I'll be back. Just you wait._

* * *

(Excited for more...?)


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sara had gone to bed early. Maybe she didn't want to be around me after what happened earlier that day. At dinner she was really quiet, and didn't even remark at my loud, enthusiastic slurping of my platter of oysters. She left me alone at the dining table, when I still had seven or eight oysters left to eat. I mean, that's unprecedented. She didn't even say a damn word.

Unknown to Sara, I could reach high enough to turn the deadbolt at all the doors and let myself outside. You'd think she'd smart enough to think about that, considering how paranoid she gets when I even take one fucking step out of the house. You've seen her before. It's not like she collapses to the ground sobbing every time I return a couple hours after leaving home. She wasn't so passionate about it. She just worried about me because she had to worry about me. I was her pokemon. She _had_ to care about me. It's like I've got this invisible grip on her emotions, because I'm hers. She _must_ worry about what happened to me when I came back from my sudden journeys. If caring for someone is just worrying, I'm sure I could care for someone just fine. I worry every day. _What if when I reach for the doorknob, and then my fever-stricken muscles don't hold up my weight, and then I fall, and then I smash my head, and then I forget everything that happened to me in the past, and then_ — _not Oshawott, no! Not the young oshawott! I'll never forget you. Never. Will I? Well, will I? Well...will...well..._ Sweat was dripping as I finally grabbed the doorknob tightly and turned it open. It's tough for a samurott to balance on less than four legs, in case you didn't figure it out already.

But not impossible.

I sampled the air. _Humid._ There was a storm brewing. A rush of thick, moist air in my face made shut the door as fast as I could. It was almost like I was immersed in water. Water, just all around me,weighing me down. I hate that. I'd thought of going outside, to maybe see how the young emolga was doing. But I was tired. Even too tired for her. I'd forgotten that I was still sick. Somehow the sickness wasn't so bad today, but later at night, sitting inside where it was just so damn quiet, listening to the clock: _tick_ , _tock_. The silence and boredom only made the fever worse.

I tried running around the house to maybe release all that heat. The living room wasn't very convenient, but it worked fine, I guess. After maybe an hour or two, I slipped like a clumsy idiot and tripped myself silly on the coffee table. Probably tripped on my own sweat on the ground. I fell on the rug, the sweat wanting to escape me but nothing came out. I was just warmer. Not cooler. Warmer. I guess it wasn't so bad.

Maybe the reason Sara went to bed early had nothing to do with me. She's scared as shit of thunderstorms. I tell you, I tried turning on the TV, but she disabled it such that it wouldn't power up, in case of lightning. I must've hurled the remote at the screen or something. Fever was driving me crazy, I tell you.

Aside from the TV, there was a big bookshelf on the left wall, as suited the daughter of an academic family. Most of the books were textbooks, Sarra likes to read. I like to read the smaller books at the top of the bookshelf. Sara was always amazed that I took such an interest in books. Of course, she has no idea I can read. Nor does she suspect it; I'm smart enough to hide my intelligence. Oh, Arceus, the irony. When she's around, I'll lick the pages silly or even crumple and tear them a little. Just to amuse her. But when she's gone to bed, I sneak to the living room and read a little. Just a little. I prefer the TV, but sometimes, like today, I had to perform the task of reaching up the bookshelf to get a book. I'd read all of them already. All the little books, that is.

There's this one pretty good little book that I've read a couple of times. Arceus, I was getting fired up just thinking about it. You know how a good book can do that to you? I dashed to the door where I heard snoring.

 _Knock knock._ "Samu…!" I groaned.

"Mmph…"

"Samu…!"

"Go away, Mack! It's two in the morning!"

"Samu…! Samu!"

"I'm trying to sleep, Mack dear. Go do something else."

"Samu…!"

"Fine, I'm coming out!"

I dashed from the door and hid under the kitchen counter, so she wouldn't see me. I heard the door open. Silence. I heard the door close. I got up from hiding. I could scream to her. I could complain to her. Whatever, as long as I didn't have to face her. I couldn't face her. I just couldn't. Not now, anyway. I guess it'd keep her worrying. Worrying, and worrying, and worrying, so she would always care for me.

Fever was making me tremble even more than before as I got up from my crouched hiding position. Didn't look like I'd be able to rest anytime soon. There weren't any little books worth reading, so it seemed. So I decided to pick a big book. A textbook. It was the "Trainer's Code". "Rules that Trainers Should Uphold in Their Journeys", it said on the cover. " _Rules". A lot like Facts, maybe. It's a book of Facts. For trainers._ I opened to a page.

"Section 4, Article 9. Intentional killings of human, pokémon, or other living thing is subject to appropriate punishment by law enforcement."

I began crumpling the pages as I gripped the corner to turn it. The fever got higher, the trembling stronger.

"Section 13, Article 7. All life has the right to liberty, including pokémon. Not all pokémon are suited for life under the apprenticeship of a trainer. In the endless journeys that trainers will pursue, it is difficult to remember that pokémon are wild creatures in captivity. Liberty should be a point of attention for all trainers. Liberation of one or many pokémon should be done, if deemed fit."

This book really resonated with me. In a time when I was so confused and unsure—just aimlessly wandering—the Facts dictated my path. The numbers were their label in the never-ending tome of typed words. _If I could only get so much down on paper on a good day._ It had been really cloudy for many weeks, drenching rains extinguishing the sunlight. Only the stale fluorescent lighting at the pokémon center had cast a sufficiently bright light upon me. But that was elsewhere.

I turned to the last page.

"All of this material is undisputable Fact, and contain the moral upholdings that all citizens, trainers or not, should espouse and follow."

There was a loud boom, the book fell from my grasp in the shock. I peered outside, through the curtain. The storm had begun. Lighting and thunder sought to enliven me with fervent desire. I trembled at my feet as I got more and more flushed. Yet the cooling rains were but a half-inch glass pane away from me at the window.

"Wait! Wait! I haven't finished it! I haven't read all the Facts yet!" I tried to stand up tall, but I couldn't.

I bolted across the living room, trying to get hold of that book again. This book was different. Everything was clear. A pearl of information, distilled into its most concentrated form. Pure. Perfect. Clear. Round. Did I mention clear?

Lightning peered through slivers in the closed curtains, stopping me dead in my tracks before I could get hold of the next page of the book.

"Why are you doing this to me!? Arceus!?"

"Mack...stop that racket! I'm trying to sleep!" I could hear Sara mumbling through the door.

I kept staring out the window. "The book, it's right there! I've got it...let me get hold of it...ARGH!" Lightning flashed through the window again.

"Arceus, will you never cease this trickery!?" Sara would always retreat into her room on a lazy weekend afternoon to read a book. I wouldn't have any damn thing to do the whole day, and when I'd bang at her locked door, she'd eventually get really mad at me. I wasn't angry at her about that anymore. I tried to reach for the book laying a few feet ahead of me as I lay collapsed on the ground, but the fever made my muscles ten times heavier. _Arceus, this fever._ I closed my eyes, and watched the words of the book of Facts flow into my mind. How it conjured a storm of thoughts in your mind, imaginary waves of blue rumbling in the darkness.

"Intentional killings...human...pokémon...punishment..." I mumbled.

"All life...liberty...Liberation...pokemon...if deemed fit..." I continued.

"...is undisputable Fact..."

"Life. Liberty. Life. Liberty. Liberation. Liberation! The Facts. Let all be free!" I shouted.

I let my eyes open a sliver.

The lightning pierced through my eyes again. I'd have to close my eyes every time it shone through; it'd always catch me by surprise and my spirit as too weak to receive it. I resolved not to close my eyes, not even blink. The light was there for me. For me. For me! Finally the dark rainy days had awakened. Now you see how this fever can drive you crazy?

My eyes were glued open. I stared intently out the window. I saw the white light that the Facts promised to me: finally, my reward. _I can see it! At the end! Forge forward, forcing your weapon into your fragile veins…all the dirt of age and weariness, carried away by the stream. Let it lessen my weight, so I shall float towards that great white light above that is shining for me._ _Like a beacon illuminating a smooth, paved trail ahead, beckoning me to follow it, follow it…_

" _You're fat."_

There she was. Erika, the little fucker standing in the trail. She wouldn't let me pass. Just forced me to stay there, sedentary, not exercising my body, listening to her say " _You're fat. You're fat."_ Again. And again. I couldn't kill her, either. The Facts tell me I shouldn't do that. I should never kill. I should let everyone be free.

Oh, Erika. She was like one of those optical illusion pictures. You stare at the dot without blinking for at least sixty seconds, and then you look away and see the phantom floating over you wherever you go. Shouldn't have stared at her deep brown eyes too long, speckled with sweet, konpeito shaped dots of reflection. Framed by such a naïve creature, those eyes must've had hidden wisdom bubbling in the darkness. I guess I actually learned a lot from her. More than she did from me.

I looked out the window and into the sky as I thought of that. It was a fast-moving storm. The storm was nothing more than a light drizzle by now, and the skies began to part, so you could almost see the moon. It was glowing bright white, almost like the sun. Coated in sweat, I fumbled out of the coarse sheets and stepped outside in the dark. Ragged blades of grass crept up my legs as I shuffled aimlessly towards the back of the house. I turned on the hose. Water flowed out, the cooling liquid cascading down my sides, the dirt and saline of discomfort carried away. I turned the hose off, felt the water seep into my fur, weighing me down. I collapsed under the weight, let myself lean forward, over the fresh puddle of rainwater on the ground. A pair of blood-red eyes stared back at me, like warning beacons, alerting the sailors of the danger of the rocky shore. "Don't you dare come near me, you little bitch! Don't suffer a bloody shock!" My eyes repelled all the fishing boats that came into port daily, carrying the rich oysters of good tidings and nourishment from abroad. I must've chased them away. People usually get scared when a timorous fisherman is slaughtered at the pier by a glowing blue seamitar, now tainted with red splotches.

I clutched the pebbly ground, ripples came from the puddle. I turned on the hose again. Thought the gushing water would help rinse it away. The water would splash on my already soaked body, and I started shivering like mad. _Why is it so cold? Why is the outside around me…so cold?_ I saved myself from the hose's wrath, screwing the handle so damn tightly until it came right off. I panted in the icy, moist air, head forced down in exhaustion. Found myself staring at that puddle, those fucking red eyes staring back at me again. I looked like a totally insane idiot that had been standing outside, out there in the fucking rain, when shelter was just a few steps away.

I looked into the puddle again. A fatter body with a fading blue fur coat was my companion. His deep red eyes would squeeze shut occasion as he struggled for fresh air, gasping, wheezing, exhausted from all the smooth, cleansing water. All the cleanliness was killing him. So much blood had been washed away that he was on the verge of death. He was already tired from just trying to take a damn walk outside after sitting at home all day, lying down, eating oysters. Oysters. Clean, fresh, pure, pristine: nothing less than that. That pinnacle of quality. _Without the dirt…who am I? Fading blue. Fat body. Blood-red eyes. Fading blue. Fat body. Blood-red eyes. Fading blue. Fat body. Blood-red eyes._

Couldn't get that companion off my mind. I tried to run away, but my body felt like a rock, the flab from years of inactivity. _I have waited long enough. Tomorrow, I shall act! Tomorrow, my time shall come! No longer will our jackets be spotless, our rifles grow rust! The war has begun! It is our time! Commence the battle! And I shall be your leader!_

I've always wanted to be in my very own war.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Grass crept into thinning areas of my fur when the morning twilight emerged. I was still in the backyard, though the rain had stopped. I couldn't get up that early, nuh-unh. I closed my eyes, put on my best happy face and pretended the lawn was my own comfy bed sheets, that I could just sink down, snuggle up in them. These bed sheets bit me with a fucking Caterpie, hiding in the blades of grass. _Who the fuck woke me up?_ My muscles refused to cooperate in the cold, frost-covered. If only I wiggle my way around, like the caterpie, insulated from the wind by the grass, never having to get up. If only I could. But

" _You're fat!"_

"ARRGH!" My body slumped back onto the itchy lawn.

I stormed into the pokémon center that morning. Sara always sleeps in on Saturdays, so I wouldn't be heard. It was hard enough for me to be aware of where my legs were taking me at such an early hour.

When I got in, the young emolga wasn't jumping like last time. You could see the quivering flecks of light, the way she sat, nonchalantly, unaware of her vulnerability. Her tiny little limbs splayed out, exposing her delicate core.

I could never fly with the youth. Not when extra weight of the world dragging me down. I could never embrace the youth. Not when my weak legs would collapse, and crush every brittle bone in her fragile body. I could never liberate the youth, either. I was too old for liberation.

 _What is the Best Thing of All? Liberation is, of course. But what is liberation, really? What Victoria called it. What did Victoria call it? Sex. Why is Liberation so good? Dragging the youth from her sorrows, the pain. Why do you want to Liberate young pokémon—what is this, you little dumbass? What are doing, trying to question liberation? It's the Best Thing of All, and always will be! But is liberation really—stop it! It's perfection, that's what it is. No matter who comes together to be liberated…it's the purest form of interaction known to life on Earth. We are all united in this, liberation. That is your goal, to unite us all! With this liberation._

I stared at the little emolga again, trembling, my heart trying to move but my mind unwilling to budge. I stayed put. _But—perfection! But—perfection! Perfection!_

"Perfection!" I shouted, eyes closed in a daydream. Several eyes turned to stare at me.

The Best Thing of All: perfection in every way, every time, every situation. It couldn't be disputed.

 _I guess . . . I guess it's worth a try._

I seized her from the back, dragging her body to an obscure corner at the Center. Her fur stood on end, eyes gushing as the world spun around her.

"Y'know something…" I whispered, my warm breath caressing her as I reached to touch her, as you always do before the actual liberation. It's always better if you do this first. "…maybe, maybe I shouldn't try to pester you."

"S…s…"

"What was that? I can't hear you, dear." She didn't want me to leave; you can always tell. Her eyes fixed upon mine, tiny mouth quivering so rapidly. Out of her egg: fearful, trembling, frozen…but dependent on me. Those pearly red eyes, the radiant heat of my fur. She is dependent on the flames of fear to melt her troubles. To survive.

"S…scared."

"Don't be scared, honey!" Arceus, her flesh was so tender to pinch. So delicate. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"AAARGH!" She squealed. Her body tensed up, pushing away from me.

"Well!? Are you coming with me!? Or not!?" I managed to say. I felt the sweat as I clutched my weapon of choice. I asked the questions this time. The little fucker lying helplessly panting on the ground had to answer to my call.

Then those eyes were back again. The speckled, konpeito-dot reflection of the fluorescent lights in her eyes which stared skyward as she lay down. She panted as she lay on the ground, the sweat trickling gently down.

My eyes widened. "Erika."

"Erika." I repeated.

"Erika, that's…your name, right?"

She nodded weakly.

"I see. Welcome back." I hugged her, letting her thin silky fur press against mine, her warmth against my cold. What was this Thing I held? This impossibly tiny, fleshy Thing? No, it couldn't be a thing—something I could see…hear…touch…smell…taste…no. It was probably just all in my imagination.

But I could see it, those dark brown eyes speckled playfully with reflections as she looked at me. I could hear it in her cries of agony, squeals of happiness, we could make each other so happy while we were together. I could feel it when our bodies met in the only hug I'd gotten in so long, so long, so long, oh Arceus, how the longing tugged at my heartstrings. I could smell the agreeable scent of her infantile body: the fragrant rose of the animal world. I could taste the konpeito reflections in those massive pupils, the little balls of sweet warming my body so. _Ooh._ The youth would end; the young emolga would grow older: the pupils grow dark and stoic, her body tired and weary, her musk more and more pungent, the reflections in her eyes sharper and bitter. This hug will loosen and fall apart. Why do I smile when I know it will all end?

"I thought I'd never see you again, Erich." I mumbled. Memories of my childhood came flooding back. That, the emolga has done for me. She need do nothing more in my service. We were in the woods together. Three of us, wild pokemon abandoned by our parents. I was an oshawott. Erich was an emolga, just out of his egg. The third of us was a snivy, named Adi. I'd tried joining the militia, but that didn't work out. Most of the time, we wandered about the forest, foraging and hunting the means to survive. He was fragile, always lagging behind but trying his best to keep up with our foraging, our incessant arguments, by curling up into a little ball and shielding his ears from the yelling. After Adi and I would settle (temporarily) a big dispute, I'd walk over to Erich, the little emolga, and give him a hug, to let him know it's all right. We were all far too young to defend ourselves. Hugging wouldn't do much for survival. But it was still comforting for the both of us.

I remember one day, it was the dead of winter, in the woods. We were trying to get food from a human's tiny log cabin because all the bushes were bare. We sneaked under the barbed wire fence and scurried across the front yard, covered in leaf litter. We were just about to get to the window when the human came out with a great, big knife. I was so scared. The human...it was Henry. Henry, my first trainer. That's how I met him. Looking absolutely petrified.

"Erich…" I smiled.

She corrected me. "Erika. It's Erika." I forgot what happened to Erich and Adi after that. I swore I would've remembered. But it was like the childhood memory got snipped the moment I knew I was holding Erika. Not Erich. Erika.

Her trainer walked back into the lobby, prescriptions in hand. "Erika! It's time to go!"

 _Yes. Erika._

Her future mate would be the first to liberate her. I should've known my body was too heavy to lift even the tiniest pokémon away from the weight of the world. Somehow…it was being with her that took the greatest toll on my heart. Leaving the young emolga panting, trembling—but unscathed—was only natural. The youth was behind me as the glass sliding doors opened for me, revealing the sun had come out.

 _Arceus, I love the pokémon center._


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Aunt Linda!" That was the sound I woke up to. Lying in bed, staring at that white ceiling, I heard multiple voices collecting by the front door. Sara was greeting them.

"Grandma! How nice to see you as well."

"Sara, dear…no doubt you've heard of what happened to your uncle? Uncle Oscar?"

"Yes…" Sara simply said. I didn't hear her crying. But then again I never heard her cry before. Her cry is silent. She'll speak cheerfully with a smile to me, the slutty squeal at the end to try to hide her tears, then closes the door to her room. The doors are soundproofed: but one time she accidentally left a crack open and the painful sounds filled the whole house. I didn't get any sleep that night; I just sat at the door, listening to the helpless noises she was making. It was so addictive to my ears. It wasn't just crying. She tried to hide a lot of things from me. _Didn't want those tender, vulnerable eyes to see a broken heart, huh._ Please. I'd be lucky if I ever saw a complete heart—I see the little shards more often.

"Why did it. He was such a careful man…planning to join the Pokémon League even…" I heard the grandmother's voice.

"Do the police who did it, Grandma?" Sara was getting more serious by the minute.

"No, but they're sure it's a homicide. They found him...oh, Arceus, I can't even say it."

"They found him tied to a brick, and thrown into the water. There were stab wounds all over his body; the medical examiner said he had been in some sort of struggle before he was killed." The other voice, presumably Linda, told her as gently as she could. No use in being gentle. It's like using a knife upside-down. I heard more sobbing.

"He only had called me a few hours before it happened…" Sara chimed in. "He was only going out to search for Mack!"

"Mack?" A voice asked.

"My samurott. He'd gone missing at the time."

"I see."

"…Well, everyone knows the crazy people who escape from the mental institution always go to the Pier. Really messed up people. Sociopaths, pedophiles, all those. It's his fault for not remembering that." Linda admitted.

"Please! Don't speak of my son like that! It's hard enough for me—no, all of us—as it is!" The eldest voice interjected.

My teeth clenched in. Why did I go to the Pier that morning? I don't know. Just felt like it. I could've gone somewhere far more isolated, like the forests outside the town, or the top of a mountain or something. That would've been a great place to do it. Why did I decide on the Pier? Well, I went there to get oysters for Sammy. Yeah. That's my reason. But then why did Oscar show up there, and Victoria, and Matt, all those. Was it fate? Or Arceus trying to poke me with the tears and sweat of guilt and frustration? Or maybe I guess they knew I would be there. Only the crazy ones go to the Pier, according to Linda. Only the crazy, who escape from the institution. My teeth clenched in even tighter.

"Look, he was my brother—you don't think I feel sad for his death?" Linda was angry.

"I'm…I'm sorry." The grandmother blew into her handkerchief. "I just wonder if it was right for him to become a pokémon trainer at his age. I never respected such a monstrous profession, you know. You fight with these...creatures...you control them to do these horrible things against their opponents, and the human who didn't even lift a finger receives all the glory. It's absolutely barbaric. Such a risky life as well, travelling around to so many places. I'd warned him it would be too tiring, especially at his age. I mean, this is stuff people do when they're ten or eleven, not thirty-five! But he persuaded me otherwise, and I gave him my blessing. Oh, why did I give in…?"

"I agree with you about pokémon battles, but still, it was his decision," Linda told the grandmother. "He doesn't have to agree with the ethics and ideas that we profess. You saw how determined he was to explore the world; he was tired of his life at the office. He would've done it whether you approved or not. It isn't your fault."

"That's what you want me to believe, Linda dear." The grandmother said harshly. "It's perfectly logical, what you said. But I'm a mother, and a mother doesn't have to be logical! You would be feeling the same way if _your_ son had been the one."

"Please Grandma, now's not the time. Why don't we sit down and think this over rationally."

"You too, Sara? Arceus, that's the trouble with all you academics. You try to...stuff every moment with 'logical explanations' and 'sensible reasoning'. Well, none of what has happened is sensible, nor logical! Where I grew up...only one thing mattered, and that was getting food on the table, all year round. I'm the one who had to work in the fields in the hot sun, chopping up firewood for the long, cold winters…so you could get a good education. I've worked the _hardest_ , I'm the _oldest_ , so listen to _me_. It's impossible that he could have taken his own life. I know my son, and don't you argue with me—I've known your older brother longer than you have, and that's a fact!"

A thicket of voices ensued. I gripped the sheets more tightly as my body threatened to betray my will. The fabric immediately tore under my grasp. Everything seemed to crumble down in my mind as the horrible noises of humans crept through the open door.

"Stop arguing, please!" Sara shouted. Her voice filled every room, even where my bed was. Shivers crept down my spine as the words reached me. I forced myself to keep lying down, and listen some more.

Linda broke the silence. "Now, the reason we came over, Sara…is that I found these strange messages left on Oscar's Pokégear, and I think you should hear them. We found it in the 'Deleted Messages' file. The police listened to it, but they didn't understand it at all. They denied that they had ever recorded it or ever considered that Oscar had taken his own life."

"...stop it!" The grandmother was still sobbing.

"Erm, I don't quite follow you." Sara was confused.

"It'll make more sense once you listen to the message. Come, sit down."

 _Beep._ They pressed the play button.

A strange voice appeared on the playback, filling the room as Sara's shouting did. It was smooth, silky, but had a strange undertone to it made me shiver again. Almost too perfect. Something about it wasn't right. He said he was from the Nuvema Police Department. He said Oscar Ryman had jumped to his death at the pier and it had been ruled a suicide. He said Oscar didn't leave a note. He had also forgotten that all the erased messages were still kept on the Pokégear. He had messed up his human impression, sounding like an unnatural monotone being. He _was_ unnatural. He was un-human. He was...imperfect.

The voice hadn't finished talking before I ran out the back door and crossed the fenced-in backyard with haste. Couldn't stand to torture myself with my own poisonous words any longer. _I don't belong here. I never did._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

" _Can I help you?"_

 _Osha osha osha! [I have come to join the militia, Sir! In response to that poster, over there!]_

" _Oh…you want you join the militia? Like in that poster over there?"_

 _Osha! [Yes Sir!]_

" _Well…I haven't seen a pokémon willing to volunteer…hehe."_

 _Osha osha!? [Why are you laughing, Sir? I am serious about this!]_

" _Oh, sorry…erm…hehe…yes. So you want to join…hehe…the militia…hehe?"_

 _Osha osha, osha osha! [Yes sir. I am willing to fight for Unova in the War Against Sinnoh, and I fit the qualifications.]_

" _You nod your head…you are…serious…hehe…about this?"_

 _Osha! Osha osha!? [Why are you laughing, Sir? I would very much like to join your cause, alongside your human comrades. Like those men, see, over there.]_

" _You want to join my men? Very well…heh…can you…hold a weapon?"_

 _Osha osha! [Yes Sir! I am excellent at my scalchop! See?]_

" _Oh…I see, your scalchop…erm…excellent…hehe. Tell me, have you ever held a gun before?"_

 _Osha? [Gun? What is a Gun, Sir?]_

" _This machine over here. This one is the standard automatic rifle my men get. It fires up to 600 rounds per minute, weighs at least 10 pounds. Can you hold it?"_

 _Osha…osha…ha! [I can do it…sir…yes…! I did it!]_

" _You're going to have to carry that weapon up to 15 hours a day."_

 _Osha osha osha osha! [I can do it Sir! You can count on me!]_

" _Now, see if you can fire it. Aim for that target in front."_

 _Osha…osha? [How do you use it?]_

" _I don't know…hehe…you need to know, in order to join."_

 _Osha…sha…sha… [See what this button does…what about this one…this one…]_

 _BANG!_

 _Osha? Osha? [Where did it go? Where did I hit?]_

" _You held it the wrong way. This is the direction you hold it in; the target is that way."_

 _Osha? Osha? OSHA! OSHA! OSHA! [Why does it feel so bad? What's that feeling? AAAH! AAAH! What's the red stuff coming out of me? It's causing the bad feeling! HELP ME! AAAH! AAAH!]_

" _I'm sorry, I can't let you join the militia. This is one of the most basic things a human soldier must know…you have failed."_

 _Osha… [Help me…]_

" _You're just a pokémon. There's so much other things you can do. Join a trainer. Hone in on your attacks. Be a pokémon and embrace it."_

 _Osha. [But I don't want to.]_

* * *

The pain in my belly quickly faded when I woke, and was replaced an intense growling of hunger. I don't know how long I had walked. There was a storm drain nearby that teemed with fish. That was all I stared at: not the barren winter forest behind me, or the rolling grasslands nearby. _The storm drain has fish. The fish is food. Food means survival. Survival is good. Good is good._ It was just like my first days of Life had been. Nothing more than getting food to survive, avoiding predator attacks to survive, hiding in a warm burrow to keep warm to survive, making senseless cries into the air to maintain sanity out in the wilderness to survive. Survival was all that mattered. No, I take that back. My sharp canines tearing into the flesh of a young magikarp was all that mattered.

I shivered a lot, it was cloudy and cold: that sort of misty rain where the droplets cling so desperately on you, trying to find a home in the unkind gusts of wind. And mist was rising from the storm drain also. The grass was wet with the mist, and so was my fur. As I trudged around to stay warm, patches of grass suffocated under the weight of my step. The lifeless hairs on my fur coat shed away, disappearing into the flat grayness of the mist. I spit on the ground, saliva sticky and scarce. I hadn't drunk water since I left an afternoon ago. The storm drain played a melody of crashing, turbulent waters, enticing me to savor it. I daren't drink the water. Humans pollute everything. Even when they pick up their trash like "responsible citizens," they leave their filthy footprints mixed with the artificial rubber on their shoe soles, and spit their sticky saliva on the clean grass. Wherever they go, it shall be ruined. Whatever pokémon they take for themselves, imprisoned under their private confines, force them toil and toil over their attacks, then told when to sleep, told when to eat. And in the profusion of humans, we pokémon are run over. Like the helpless baby oyster in the path of the ever-powerful concrete storm drain. Humans always win.

There were remnants of a newspaper lying in the grass. I instinctively picked it up and read it. I immediately trembled at the headline, but I was still able to make out what the words were saying. It was an older issue, maybe a two or three years back, about a trainer-killer out on the loose. Five females were known to have been killed by the same pokémon. This pokémon was known to have a violent streak, particularly enjoying to kill their victims by his scalchops or some sort of knife. Anyone with a gun should shoot it upon sight. Then it said to turn to page seven for more. Then I stopped myself.

 _Stop! Put it down. Put it down._ It was really hard to do that; it was so damn exciting to read about this trainer-killer. Something about the headline just drew me in. The same thing that drew my attention to that police officer's recording on the Pokégear. _Stop!_ Forcing my eyes away from it, eyelids sealed tightly, I quickly crumpled it up and hurled it into the storm drain. That was no use to me out here in the wild. It was no use for me to know. What difference would it make? Black ink on plant fibers does nothing for the young turtwig, living his nascent years in this forest. It is a dead tree. The dead tree was cut down my humans. In the woods. The pristine, sylvan landscape…destroyed. Humans ruined everything. I kept sitting on the grass, watching the misty rain fall. _I am just…a pokémon in the woods. Sitting, relaxing…this is peaceful._ Arceus, I even started forgetting the English words for things. I forgot how to say that "I am human."

Food was hard to find in the winter. All the pokémon had retreated to their burrows. Only an idiot would stay above ground in this weather, in an open field defenseless against the wind. Only someone as idiotic and mentally unaware as the creature would do such a thing. I was a creature. For I let the wind carry me: carry me to the delirium of frostbite, carry me into an effortless drifting in the air, carry me to any distraction from the frigid earth. The earth is my favorite. I don't even like water that much, despite my being a water-type. The earth that lies below the water I like. To feel the hearth rug of cold, wet grass, so cold as it pressed on my thin fur was the ultimate betrayal. _I thought you would cuddle me, feed me nourishment, stop the helpless shivering._ But I still trembled in the cold, my body moving, moving, moving, never to cease and settle on a single spot. _It'll always be that way, won't it? Won't it, you little bastard?_ My spit laced with oyster grit ran out, but urine was putrid enough to teach the dirt a lesson. Pity you can't really teach dirt at all, really. You can't talk to it, teach it a lesson. You can only beat it. Claw and scratch at its surface. Etch a scathing mark deep into its surface. Until it finally gives in.

An injured ratata roamed about the field next to the forest, its leg obviously hurt by some prickly tree branch or bush. He must've lost a lot of blood already, for the blood he did have left trickled in a thick, viscous stream. He was obviously pale, but his body was coated in mud, from writhing in pain in the water-sopped dirt. My heart froze in disgust at the pathetic creature, but the flesh and the animal warmed everything back up. He looked a lot like a piece of dirt. To the unintelligent animal, no one's the wiser. The Facts taught me to back away, but they were just words on old pieces of paper, pieces of paper that would drown in the rain and wash away in the storm drain as if it was nothing. _Nothing! Nothing! No piece of paper shall stop me. No words shall dissuade me! Go! Find your nourishment! Take control! Break free from the Facts!_

A voice screamed at the top of his lungs into the wide expanse, his seamitar tightly held. His legs lunged forward, towards the pile of dirt that those intense red eyes were fixated upon. He stopped at the pile of dirt, raised his arm with the seamitar in it…

"STOP!" The voice yelled. My vocal cords throbbed after that.

I continued to stare at the dirt, heart refusing to circulate life in me when I lay my eyes on the mouse pokémon's looming death. Instead the acid in my stomach churned, burning my heart and my tear-stained eyes. It was the wrong kind of fire that I had kindled. This one dissolved, melted away great dreams and desires; it didn't burn, rise in towering, triumphant flames. The wilderness wasn't the place for that. The air was too cold and humid. Stricken by the debilitating fire that had surged through my body, my mind turned delirious, and I knew no more. Like the total, idiotic animal that I was.

Someone whispered to me. "Life. Liberty—Liberation. Your Facts. Remember." My eyes swept across the plain. _No one in sight._ Stupid me. I'd forgotten to look up.

I watched as the ratata shuffled a little, camouflaged into the mud, his soiled eyes staring at mine—a pure, lustrous red—and tried to lunge forward and sink its fangs into mine. But he was too small, too tired. He managed one step and faltered, collapsing back onto the ground. He looked one last time at me and then hobbled away, out of the field, and back into the woods. I still grasped my weapon, its blade held high, until the muscles deflated from exhaustion, and again fell flat on the ground with the rest of my body. Consciousness slipping away with every passing minute. That was okay though. It made the days a little shorter.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 _Osha osha. [What do we do next, Adi?]_

 _Sni sni snivy. [We go into the woods and look for food, comrade Mack.]_

 _Emo…emolga! Emolga! [But I'm tired, Adi. We've been marching around the forest for three days now. Can we rest?]_

 _SNIVY! Sni…snivy! [NO! SILENCE! We shall march in the trees…until we FIND something! Even if we die looking!]_

 _Osha…osha osha! [Don't speak to Erich like that. The emolga's just a few days out his egg. Be nice.]_

 _SNI…SNIVY! Sni! [I can be nice if I want…but I shall be not nice if I want! Now march!]_

 _Sni! Sni! Sni! Sni! SNIVY! Sni sni! [Step! Left right, left right, left right, HALT! You're doing it all wrong!]_

 _Emolga…molga? [It's the winter right now, Adi. How can we find food?]_

 _Snivy! Sni snivy! [And how do you know, comrade Erich? I'm MUCH older and…experienced…than you are.]_

 _E…emolga! [Well…you're ugly! You're ugly for a snivy!]_

 _Osha! Osha osha, osha…osha osha. [Quiet guys! Look, we're all in this together. We're all wild pokémon who were abandoned by our parents…let's try to find some commonality and work with it.]_

 _Emo…emolga! [Easy for you to say, Mack. I was abandoned as an egg…at least you got to know your parents!]_

 _Osha. [It's okay, Erich.]_

 _Osha osha osha…[It's true I spent two months with my samurott parents before I was abandoned…but I don't think I ever knew them or really loved them. Nor did they love me. It might've been easier if I'd never known them, in fact. Make the separation a bit easier. You should consider yourself lucky.]_

… _molga. [Thank you, Mack. You're such a comfort.]_

 _Emolga…emol…[I hate Adi. He's so strict and everything. He wakes us up at 3am just to do these stupid exercises. We're trying to survive, not build up an army! Didn't you try joining the militia, Mack?]_

 _Osha…sha. [Yeah…it didn't go well. I was humiliated by the human there.]_

 _Emo…molga. [Well…it's the same everywhere. We are never safe, I guess.]_

 _Osha…[We are never warm…]_

… _molga…[We are never comforted…]_

… _sha…[We are never loved…]_

 _Emolga! [Oh, Mack! Don't say stuff like that.]_

 _SNI! SNI SNIVY! [Pull yourselves together! We don't have much time! MARCH!]_

 _Emolga? [But where?]_

 _Sni…sni snivy! Sni…sni SNIVY! [See that huge wooden box over there…that's a house…inside, there's a human. Humans have food. Lots of it.]_

 _E…emo…emolga! [But…the whole building…is surrounded with barbed wire!]_

 _Sni…snivy! [Just be…careful. We're small enough, we can crawl through.]_

 _SNI! Sni…snivy! [Forward! March! Crawl…that's it!]_

 _Osha…osha—AAAH! [Well…that wasn't too bad—AAAH!]_

 _SNIVY! Sni snivy! [OH NO! The human's coming out of his house! ]_

 _E…emolga! [He…he has a big knife! With blood on it!]_

 _Sni snivy! [Let's get out of here, comrade Erich!]_

 _Emolga! Emo…emolga! [Wait, Adi, Mack is missing! We…we must go and fetch him!]_

 _Sni…sni snivy! [Nonsense…two lives saved is better than three lives gone. Quick!]_

" _Who's there?"_

 _Osha! Osha! [Help…Erich! I'm caught in a hunting trap!]_

 _Osha! [Erich!]_

 _Osha! [Erich!]_

 _Osha…! Osha? [Adi! No…no one?]_

 _Osha! Osha osha! [Come quick! A human's about to grab me!]_

* * *

I woke up, thinking that that was all just the past, that I would open…my eyes…and that I would see a roof over my head, a warm fire, and plentiful food. Cold rainwater fed my gaping mouth instead. The drops stung my sensitive eyes, brought a chill to my water-logged fur. The rain clouds were a very leaky roof to have over my head.

I couldn't get any fire to start. I had procured plenty of loose twigs and branches for fuel, but they were soaked in the rain and refused self-immolate in life-giving flames. I tried striking two rocks together, but half the time not even a spark would come out. Every damn time a spark wouldn't appear, I swear I must've lost a fuse, 'cause it went from rubbing the rocks to just beating the jagged edges aimlessly into the ground, where it would sometimes miss and hit my leg or something. Never mind, though; after a couple hours of beating I barely felt anything. Just the misty raindrops on my fur, plotting to extinguish my only source of life that lay in the flames. _Shit._

And even when I finally got lucky and the fire was started, it would just last for maybe two or three seconds and then a soaking downpour would kill the only bright color in the gray desolation of the winter. So I couldn't do much more in the morning. Just sit, exhausted, in the rain, piercing sharp rocks into my flesh. I was bleeding like mad, but you couldn't tell 'cause the rain washed it away. I was sweating like mad, but you couldn't tell 'cause the rain washed that away too. I was crying like mad, but you couldn't tell 'cause...the rain washed that away too. Take blood, sweat, and tears away...what do you have? Now you see why I hate water so much?

A small rustling in the woods ahead caught my attention. My eyes peeled across the jagged tree branches of above. A splotch of white and purple feathers in my vision confirmed my assumption. My stomach had been grumbling nonstop for the past few hours, desperation had accumulated. Saliva drooled like a madman from my sharp fangs. Rufflet flesh isn't really to my taste—the alkaline blood and frequent parasites aren't appealing—but at that moment it seemed an irrefutable blessing. _This time shall be different. My scars have clotted and healed. The sweat has evaporated away. The tears have dried in corner of my eye. I am an animal. Stone-cold hearted, unyielding to the sword of mercy. Its blade my Arceus-given seamitar shall destroy! Now strike! No hesitation! No tears!_

I lunged forwards and hit his feathers. I heard my voice. "YAAH…!" I saw a blur of a glowing electric blue blade, I felt an impact. With every strike of the blade, each in rapid succession, feathers dispersed in every direction, scattering about the littered forest floor. My booming roar, unhampered by tears. "YAAH!" My seamitar, a mere blur of light as it hit the target. An hour later…the Rufflet was gone. I panted in near exhaustion, my pearly red eyes wide open, staring. Staring at those fluffy feathers, floating impossibly carefree in the wind, as my breath became still more drawn out, still more heavy.

What would have been satisfactory nourishment here in the woods was now an emaciated mush of muscle and bones, indistinguishable from the brown leaves lining the earth. I turned behind me. The fire had finally started successfully. It was actually burning pretty strong; the flames towered twenty, thirty feet. It shone so brightly on the gloomy day, erupting with color and light. I smiled a little bit. But what use was such a great light when its creator himself was clinging on the edge of survival? The food I'd killed was ruined from all the hitting and attacking. The grumbling of my stomach just _had_ to remind me of that at that precise moment.


	21. Chapter 21

I couldn't find any good berries. Most had shriveled and fallen to the ground in winter, having succumbed to old age…shriveled and tired. A deplorable sight, indeed. For winter was the Land of the Dead: the trees, worn and shriveled from a long hot summer, the green leaves and flowers that bloomed in brilliant colors…all fallen away. The furret, hibernating in their burrows, the rising and falling of breathing almost invisible, their slow heartbeat almost undetectable…too close to death for comfort. The sky shielding the sun and. And yet they do it to survive. Only with death shall they rise—replenished by the long winter rest, fueled by the drenching waters of winter—once again into their full colors and livelihood come spring. _Does it have to be this way?_

I had peeked at one of the numerous travel brochures on Victoria's desk once. She had them pinned to her wall, even though she never went to any of those places. Her father wouldn't let her travel to all those exotic, faraway regions; he said she was too young. So she'd wake up every morning—while I was still asleep—and look at those brochures, imagining what it would be like to be there. There was one brochure she placed very prominently, in the center of the whole collection. It was this place near Guyana. They say that that's where Mew came from, Guyana. But this wasn't about Guyana. Guyana is this really hot, sticky jungle where if you don't sweat like crazy from the heat, you get bitten by strange creatures. No, it was about this place further up in the mountains. The temperature was lower year-round 'cause of the elevation, and they advertised that the air was so crisp and clean all your illnesses would be gone from just inhaling. The crops and vegetation didn't wither away like it did here in the winter; they remained perpetually in their colorful state of bloom. They called the "Land of Eternal Spring". Where flowers remained in their colorful splendor, the air clean and pure, the temperature moderate. _All my troubles, slipping away, by just inhaling. What a dream._ I couldn't inhale here; the air would be so cold, I'd get inflamed and irritated from trying to breathe in heavily. _Oh, Arceus—Mew—take me to the Land._ But that was too far up, perched above in the mountains; I could never reach at high in my current state.

I trudged deeper and deeper into the prickly foliage, my body not well adapted to the ways of the land. A sight of what resembled a waterfall elevated my hopes, but fell precipitously when I discovered it had frozen over. Even water could fall victim to the bone-chilling cold. I was desperate, so I leaned down and licked the ice to get some liquid out. It actually wasn't that bad. The water was cool, refreshing…not a hint of contamination. It went down really smooth in the throat. The water was literally freezing cold, but it really helped warm up the spirits. I'd gargle it, and the pristine fluid would percolate into even the driest nooks and crannies inside. _Anything_ could warm up the body in this weather. _Arceus, I could kill for a shot of whiskey now._

Bending forward again, I reached in for a drink. My tongue was like a giant icicle coming out of my mouth after I'd been at it for ten or fifteen minutes. I still barely got a cup of water out of the ice-covered spring. I would've gotten another cup if I could move my numbed extremities after so long. The ice around my tongue had frozen and I was stuck like glue to a cold, hard chunk of ice. My eyes flew wide open, staring at this total idiot in the ice's reflection; right in front me. I mean, who's stupid enough to stick out their tongue over a frozen just to get a few drops of water? _You, you dumbass! I've been around for too long. This life was bound to kill me, what did I tell you? Fuck. Does cold weather kill brain cells?_ _Well I guess if that was true, I wouldn't be asking such a question, would I? Shit, this is pathetic! Imagine, only…what, two fucking square inches of your body is stuck to ice. Who'd think such a little thing could determine your fate? Well…Erika did. Arceus, those deep brown eyes. Stop! Don't stare! No! Bad Mack. Bad Mack. That's a good boy. Sit! Sit! "You're fat." That doesn't matter now! Just…think about everything but that. Everything but that._

I even had this crazy thought that I could cut out my tongue so I could survive. _What the fuck, Mack? Imagine the consequences. You live on the human tongue, Mack. It's what makes you…Mack. Don't take that away. It's the animal that getting to you, Mack. Don't let it. Don't let it…_

"URGHH!" Screams erupted from the idiot.

"URGHH!" A total fucking idiot.

"ARRGH! Oh…AAH!" I yanked myself from the ice, but I must've slipped and then tumbled flat onto the frozen water.

The ice was really thick and slippery, so I could sit on there and just slide around the water. I curled myself up into a little ball, and whoa! I glided all the way across the ice. I was clumsily moving around and around, giggling. I closed my eyes shut and pretended me and Henry were playing hide and seek, like we'd always do on a cold winter day. I was a tiny little oshawott, so I could always make use of the most invisible hiding places, where he would _never_ find me! _Never!_ But I'd always giggle too loudly, and Henry would creep in…creep in…and BOOM! I was on the ground, running away on the double! Through the woods, the prickly tree branches, bounding across the landscape in the frozen air! _Catch me if you can, Henry! EEEK!_ He seized me with his big, strong arms! He'd pull off my scalchop and tickle my tummy until I almost couldn't breathe. _Stop! Hehehe…that…hehehe…ahh_ …I opened my eyes. I didn't feel the chill in the air one bit. I was almost sweating. A game of hide and seek always warms up a lifeless winter day.

After hours of fruitless (or rather, Berry-less) trekking, I finally collapsed on some sort of metal and wooden surface. I guess it was pretty comfy.

* * *

(To be continued. Thanks for reading, and be sure to comment on your thoughts.)


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 _Osha…osha…[Erich…Adi…]_

" _Well…hello there."_

 _O-osha…osha!? Osha! Osha! Osha! [Hello…what!? AAAH! It's the human! Erich! Adi!]_

" _You are trembling. What's wrong? You scared?"_

 _O-osha…_

" _I can't hear you, honey. Say a word I'll know."_

 _S…scared…_

" _That's better. Now don't be scared…come with me."_

 _O-o-osha!? Osha! Osha! [W-who are you!? Oh, Arceus. Let go of me! Let go!]_

" _Don't worry, I don't bite. I won't hurt you. Just be nice, and you'll come to no harm. I've longed to have a companion out here in this wilderness. No human dares to venture out here."_

 _Osha…osha? [What…what are you gonna do? Why are you holding that big knife?]_

" _This? Are you pointing to this? Oh…this is my weapon. Just like you pokémon have attacks, we humans have weapons."_

 _Osha…? [Who are you?]_

" _My name's Henry. Come inside to my log cabin. Gee, it's been forever since I've had someone else in my life. The Undella Police had exiled me to this cold mountain away from the seashore…just because I was doing my Arceus-given duty."_

 _Osha? [What do you mean?]_

" _Oh…it's nothing. You'll find out eventually. Now, I have a feeling…we're gonna be together for a long, long time. How old are you?"_

 _Osha, osha oshawott. [I'm four months out of my Egg.]_

" _Oops…almost forgot that you only speak your pokémon language. Looks like you're gonna need to learn human words first, hmm? That's right. Now sit here. I'll be back."_

 _Osha…osha osha! [He's gone…now's my chance to escape!]_

 _Osha…aah! Osha! [Where is it…aah! There's a hole in the wall I can climb out of!]_

 _Osha…osha…osha…OW! [Climb up…that's it…now go through the hole…OW!]_

" _What are you doing, dear? You won't be leaving for a long time, honey. You're mine now. See? It looks like a hole you can climb through, right? But it's solid. This is called 'glass'. This is a 'window'. Windows are made of glass."_

 _G…gla…_

" _That's right. Here, watch my lips. 'G…la…ss'."_

 _G…gla…g…la…ss. Glass._

" _Great job! Great job! You'll be speaking English in no time. Here, see this clear liquid inside here?"_

 _Osha! [That's water!]_

" _Now, this is called—hey! That's my glass of water. You can't drink from this glass."_

 _G…glass? Osha osha osha! [But that thing over THERE is glass! Not this thing over HERE!]_

" _Well…this thing with the water in it is called 'glass' also. That invisible solid in the wall is also called 'glass'."_

 _Osha…? [What…?]_

" _Don't worry. You'll understand after a while. Now read my lips: 'W…wa…ter'."_

 _W…wa…water. Glass. W…water. Glass. Water. Glass. Water. Glass water glass water glass water…!_

" _SHH!"_

 _SSH!_

" _Stop that! NO!"_

 _NO!_

" _Bad oshawott!"_

 _BAD! Hmph! Glass glass, water water water…_

" _Argh…shut the fuck up already!"_

 _FUCK!_

" _Ahh…erm."_

… _erm._

" _It's getting late. We'll keep learning English tomorrow. Now, you can sleep here on the couch."_

 _C…cou…couch. Osha? Osha…? [Where are you going?]_

" _Stay there. Sleep."_

 _S…sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Water. Glass. Glass. Water._

 _Fuck._

* * *

Something woke me up earlier than usual. The sun was still sunken below the hills when my eyes opened. I had an awful headache. Like a noisy baby oshawott had blared nonsense words into my ear the whole fucking night. That's what I was dreaming of.

My head pressed into the ground. It rumbled. The ground shook as the sound came closer. _Arceus, are you coming for me? O, great Arceus, come to me! The Blessed Child shall call me in its youthful excellence!_ I was probably still half asleep and drifting into another dream—I wasn't used to getting up so early. Started hearing all these voices, telling me to do these crazy things.

 _Look at all the butterfree. So pretty. Falling from the sky._

I started laughing.

' _Cause they've been shot down. Shot down by the idiot hunters. See their blood trail in mid air! See them flail their paper-thin wings hopelessly, helplessly! Watch them fall! Splat! Splat! Blood everywhere! Everywhere!_

I laughed even harder.

 _Get. The. Fuck. Out._

I suddenly shot up, the energy surging into my groggy muscles, and dove into the grass a few steps ahead. The grass reached deep into my fur, the dry prickly bits catching in the hairs. The rumbling got louder. And louder. AAAAAAAAAAAA. I turned and watched as the first cars of the train passed in front of me. The first human-made noise I'd heard in days. Thought it was strange that I even missed Sara's slutty squeal, Victoria slamming the door behind her, the grinding of Sara's sport car into the pitiable asphalt.

The train was moving quite fast, but I had built up my leg strength after days of roaming in the forest. I clutched the smooth, wet side of the baggage car, and yanked open the door.

Once I closed the door behind me, I realized there wasn't a single damn light or window even. Though, it was a lot quieter inside. I felt the rough fabric and cold plastic of the luggage as I wandered around, wobbling and bumping in the dark. I'd always trip over something and hit the side of the car; that would make things noisy again. I was still much of an animal at the time; sounded like the rocks and leaves tumbling about on the forest floor. _Dinner is near. It's moving. It's moving! Prepare for attack! Lunge forward! Seize the critter!_ I smashed into a pile of bags, which came tumbling over my defenseless body. All the soft fabric of clothes, tightly packed inside, crushing over me. I tried breathing. _Looks like he was too powerful. A beastly predator has struck before I could even grab a measly dinner._ After a while, I managed to roll out from the suitcases, taking time to catch my breath. That's all animals worry about, anyway. _Breathing. Breathing. Air is good. Good means survival. Survival is good. Good is good._

Why is good survival, survival good, and good good? Your guess is good as mine.

As I sat on the bare wooden floor, surrounded by towers of suitcases on either side, the sound was a lot more muffled; the bags shielded the violent shaking of the undercarriage from my ears. It was more like a low, rumbling sound. I closed my eyes, even though it was dark already. It was the slow waters of the ocean deep. The tremors of the abyssal plain, shaking under the weight of all the water it had to support. The bags shook around the darkness in fear, but _I_ could breathe. My powerful legs absorb the shock and vibrations of the restless earth below. The air rushed towards me in a place where water would supposedly fill its place and quickly lead me to succumb to its liquid wrath. It was nothing short of a miracle. I never knew you could fall so miserably into the dark abyss and breathe so softly, so gently, into a slumber…


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 _How long have I been with you now, Henry?_

" _Oh, I would say about…three years. You quite surprised my expectations, y'know. I didn't think you could be Liberated at such a young age._

 _Hehe!_

" _Well, now that you have been Liberated, Mack, I can take you outside of the log cabin we live in, and show you other places."_

 _I see. Where are we now?_

" _Well first, I wanted to take to this place, right here. This is the beach."_

 _There's a lot of water. And sand._

" _There sure is."_

 _Henry? Why are all the people on the sand looking at you, screaming, and running away? Even the pokémon are running away._

" _Well…Mack, it's because the people outside our log cabin think that I've done something bad. They think Henry's a little serial killer, going to people's houses and killing them. But they don't know what you and I know…that it is all in the interest of purity. The world outside isn't pure, Mack. And it is my job—our job—to do our best to make it as pure as we can._

" _But you see, the other people don't understand this. That's why I wanted to wait until you were Liberated before we went out. You wouldn't have been ready to…understand these sort of…complicated matters._

" _Well, what d'you say we go out into the water?"_

 _The big water over there?_

" _Yes!"_

 _I don't know…it looks kind of scary—ow! Oops. Sorry, Henry._

" _Now, you remember your Forbidden Words. One of them is 'scary'. Don't ever say that! YOU BETTER BE BRAVE, YOU HEAR ME!? You don't want me slapping you again, do you?"_

 _No, Henry!_

" _Now get in that fuckin' water!"_

 _NO!_

"… _WHY NOT!?"_

 _You said a Forbidden Word. Hmph!_

" _Ah…fuck this. I can say all the motherfucking forbidden words I want! You don't wanna get in the water…ya little pussy…I'll MAKE ya get in the water. Now swim. Swim!"_

 _Henry! Stop pressing me into the water! I can't breathe!_

" _Hmm, what was that, dear? Mommy can't hear you, sweetheart. You're just gurgling water, now."_

 _Henry! Henry!_

" _I can't hear you~!"_

 _Scared…scared…_

" _Forbidden Word…you asked for it. Time for Momma to give you a little spanking."_

 _SLAP!_

 _Scared…_

 _SLAP!_

 _Scared…_

* * *

Castelia City really is a beautiful place. On the way there, there was a part where the train was on a hill overlooking the skyline. I peeked my out of the baggage car doorway. It was sunset, and after so many hours of being in the darkness, I could barely see anything. My eyes were paralyzed by the shock of light, glorious light, flooding into my unaccepting pupils. It stung my eyes if I stared for too long. But _light._ Light! After so many days of clouds, gloomy winter rain—and now. More than a great waterfall could ever do, the light washed away all the sorrows, the animalistic tendencies I had been infected with, the suffocating ice that coated my heart. I had to pull myself back inside because I thought my whole face would freeze if I stuck my head out any longer; it was still awfully cold, since it was in the mountains. I regret that. I should've learned my lesson from the Nuvema fishing pier incident and savored the moments a bit longer.

The train came to a halt two hours later, and I open the baggage car door again. Choking smog flooded into the cabin. I had to cough a little, 'cause the smog was really bad. You could barely even see any sort of sun, it was that bad. This was the Pokémon Quarter: filled with rows and rows of derelict buildings, pavement cracking at the seams, smog of crude, inefficient heating stoves filling the air. The humans of Castelia moved the untrained population of pokémon to this district, further upriver from Castelia, to contain all the beasts abandoned by countless trainers. Some of the lucky ones were set to PCs at the pokémon center, but the number of orphaned beasts got bigger and bigger, leaving Castelia no choice but to convert this poor neighborhood of town into an overcrowded slum of pokémon. There were talks in the news of even executing the pokémon tossed away by trainers. Worthless, they probably call them.

The smog wouldn't allow me to see any much more than a few feet, but as soon as I crossed that distance, a few more feet would reveal themselves. A few feet. A few feet. Until you kind of got used to it. You almost thought there could be at least a hint of life in this dump.

There were voices coming from one of the buildings. Loud voices. I heard laughter. I heard jokes. I heard the clinking of drinks. I had stumbled upon a bar. You couldn't see if you if didn't try to see it. You had to go between two buildings to get to it: via an alleyway. For me, the faint sound of clinking cups coming from the doorway gave it away. I hadn't had a shot in while, and my tongue was moving around my dry mouth, flailing like a magikarp out of water, I swear. _A shot of whiskey_ — _or something like that_ — _would be a tincture for my pains. It has to be so easy. It can be so easy._ The sounds of carousing got louder and louder. Only the desperate would come here. They didn't even notice when I walked in, they were so caught up in all their conversations. I jostled my way through the crowd. The voices were loud and heavy, the lighting dim, pokémon musk heavy but it all felt so light somehow.

"Ever since my trainer let me go, I can now go and get ice cream whenever I want!" I heard one voice say.

"It feels so good to finally go to the toilet by myself!" Another voice said.

"And eat!" Someone chimed in.

"And sleep! I love freedom!"

"I can go and fish for food at the coast whenever I want!"

"I'm working at the heating stoves, keeping the fire warm! What about you?"

"I'm teaching young pokémon at the move training school!"

"It's so nice to be free!"

Simple thoughts bouncing around the tight walls of the bar made the corners of my mouth lift up as I stood there, against the brick wall, unable to move in the crowd. It still felt so amazing. It was nice to just watch them, really. I had wanted to say something, but the smog outside didn't let me do anything more than choke. Now I could, but it's not like anyone would hear me. Or whether I would even want to be heard. It was different without a trainer. I didn't feel like I needed the attention anymore: to be constantly doted on, to be fed, to be bathed, to be coddled. I closed my eyes, reaching for the handle of my seamitar. It felt so much more familiar than when Sara called me to use it in battle. I let it go, and I was just one in the crowd.

"Here." A microphone was suddenly passed to me. I opened my eyes from daydream.

"What? What is this for?"

"You want to perform, right? Why else are you standing here, right by the stage?"

"Oh…erm…I guess I am." I made my way up.

"What have I done? Damn it, why am I so stupid! Hmm. Where do I belong? The human that was my rightful place was suddenly taken away by the evil city police then…where do I belong? Will no human comfort me? Let the confluence of our heart vessels, foreign in species but alike in heat, warm the horridly cold nights? So many things I wanted to try. To return to the youth that had once been mine. To savor the freedom I have long sought. The exhilaration, the speed, the joy, the love, the wind through my soft fur, the pleasure…a gentle sunrise greeting me every morning. To savor the sweet oyster flesh, the weight of its shells never being an encumbrance. There's so many things I've wanted to try…but the human guilt has weighed me down like pebbles on the seashore, disguised as sweet, nourishing oysters. Their slamming doors, their despicable ways and behaviors…those fucking slutty squeals at the end of everything they say. But where do I belong? When will I no longer be slowly killed by the gritty oyster shells of human conscience? When will the pokémon spirit return?

"But, that is me. I know that you all belong here, under the choking smog, amidst dark, abandoned industry, never to see the sun—really? Is it true that you belong here? Dumped here by the humans, disgusted at our animal presence. Do they stare into your bright, radiant eyes…and glower at your being in disgust? Taunt you with harsh words: 'You've been a bad pokémon'; 'You rapist!'; 'You have failed'; expecting you to respond, but to no avail? My trainer did the same. She played to me such…horrible…words on a recording. How someone could say those, words, let alone record them…disgusts me.

"I spent all day, journeying by train; to seek where I belong. I don't belong there. Not locked in the frigid confines of the baggage car, surrounded by heaped piles of luggage, threatening to crash on me the next sharp turn. And before today, I stayed for several days in the woods; to seek where I belong. I could have stayed longer in the cold, but human engineered Facts withheld and corrupted by innate animal traits…condemning me to death had I not left there in time. I had taken such a long journey by train, hoping to find this place: a city where I could belong…but the smog told me I was not welcome. The smog that the despised humans created. The horrible, rickety train that I spent a tortuous journey on. Why should be suffer? Why should be at the little mercy of the humans, at the behest of their newfangled pokéball? When shall we belong? When the suffering has ended. When shall the suffering end?"

 _I don't know._

"So, everyone, I make it a priority! A priority that it shall be the time we shall wield the swords as the brave warriors we _all_ know are embedded deep in our hearts! Well do you know? Huh? Do you!?"

Thunderous sounds of clapping grew into a crescendo. I didn't know they were there; all the pokémon, of different colors, different types. All this time, I thought I was just talking to my own damn self. But they were there. The pokémon were there, listening along. Sara would quietly eat her dinner while I rambled away. "…" Victoria would silence me to helplessness in numerous sessions of Liberation. " _Do you like it to hurt?"_ Henry…what would he do? " _Argh…shut the fuck up already!"_ My eyes drooped as their voices played in my head…I was talking to myself again. _Sara…Victoria…Henry…Victoria…Henry…Henry…Henry…_

"Henry." The audience went silent. Once again, I saw all two hundred of their eyes, staring, with rapt attention.

I didn't expect to even get the microphone. I kinda liked that surprise. It made the whole thing more exciting. Now everyone my words have touched shall know my name. Everyone knows the name of that samurott: Mack. Mack, who's so damn good at speaking. No use having Henry telling to shut the fuck up. Henry. Henry? Henry!? What did you do!?

 _What did you do!?_ My thoughts were aloud again. _WHAT DID YOU DO, HENRY!?_

My legs lost all their strength, bring myself to the hard ground. Tears drained as his voice finally faded from my mind. " _Hehehe…"_ I remember the laughs. _I want that katana_. I remember the joy. _Now let me Liberate you, tell me what words you can use to describe 'Liberation'_. I remember the liberation. But that is the past. Now is survival. Survival is good. Good is good. Good is real; the hard, knotted wood stage, painted dark…black. This is real. The cheering of all the pokémon in my speeches. This is real. Tears continued to flow, even when Henry was completely gone. This is real. I got up.

"Glory to the pokémon!" I shouted to them.

"Hurray!" They cheered.

"No more humans! Glory!" I held the microphone high, as proudly as I would the soul-imbued katana. It had a similar weight in the handle, and held high above my head, I almost couldn't tell what I was holding. _Is this really not in my hand a sword? Such a giver of strength and pride…not the sword? Such a weight of power, yet such a lightweight of handling…not the sword?_ Whatever it was, sword or microphone it was my best weapon. The weapon that didn't just make one mortal human cry of supreme pleasure, the weapon that made the immortal pokémon race cheer, their hearts swelled with pride.

The female samurott that had handed me the microphone approached me again. "That was a great speech, Mack. So beautiful. Everyone was absolutely riveted by your words. Do you speak human speech?"

"Well, a little." I couldn't stop grinning at myself, head tilted upward.

"Hmm, that's very nice. My name's Maria. I serve drinks here at the club and a little extra! Hehe." She had such a sultry quality to her speech. I hated her voice, so rich and buttery…to the point of discomfort. But the knot in my stomach had settled a long time ago.

"Nice to meet you, Maria." That's the standard introduction to someone you've just met.

"Tell me, is there something you wanna ask me?"

I was confused. "What well, actually, no. Nothing, really."

Her voice grew much coarser. "What d'you mean, there isn't something you wanna ask me?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon, admit it, " the sultry voice returned again. "I've seen the way you looked at me when you gave that riveting speech. The way your, precious eyes, stared at my body. So ask me, ask me if I want to get to know you better."

"I'm supposed to ask _you_?"

"Yes, damn it!" She got mad again.

"Does it matter!?"

"Yes! Now just do it before I—"

"OKAY! Okay, okay." I followed her social norms. "Would...would you like to get to know each other better?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh Arceus, of course!" She giggled, as if none of that argument had ever gone down. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta keep serving the drinks. My shift today ends at midnight, so…if you want, you can call me afterwards on my phone number: 0031 6553. Tee-hee!" She obviously couldn't read or write, like most free pokémon. Also she didn't even lower her voice when revealing such personal information. It didn't matter in the Pokémon Quarter. Everyone knew the humans were wiretapping them, since the privilege of phones had been reluctantly given to free pokémon in Castelia two years ago.

As the crowd pressed me against the door, I heard more voices, in the English language. It was coming from outside. I heard screams, cries mixed in with the sounds of fighting. I opened the door to the outside, let myself step out the door. The humans were surrounding a young pokémon, taking turning at punching her. Maybe a disgruntled trainer.

"This is what you get for abandoning me, you little bitch!" One man's turn.

"Take that!" Another man hit her.

"Tell me you're coming back to your Master!" Three voices. At least three of them.

"AAAH!" I heard the victim's high-pitched screams.

"Tell me you can't live without me!" Another punch.

I couldn't even tell what pokémon it was, they were all ganged up around her. Hints of a deep aquamarine and the outline of a serpentine body showed to me it was a form I was familiar with. Remember Adi? Adi, the snivy I spent time with as an infant pokémon? He was shiny as well. Made him think he was special. That he was the only one who could be powerful. That Arceus bestowed such a duty upon him. I guess this shiny snivy at Castelia was getting the special treatment. She was the only one who was beat up by three people at once, in the middle of the night. In the Pokémon Quarter. Where you never see people.

Humans rarely ventured into the Pokémon Quarter. Neither did they ride dark, musty baggage compartments, nor did they gather in cold, barren forests. As I did. The sight of a human was so foreign to me. So wicked. Now you see why I never belonged?

I had to act. This was the perfect stage, the perfect human audience. I've got all my lines memorized. Now let us act. The first in the Castelia Theater has begun. They saw a wonderful performance. It all started with this unseeming samurott, just another piece of trash living in the slums of the Pokémon Quarter. His matted fur was strewn in all sorts of directions, his wobbly legs struggling to balance on the concrete surface. No one would suspect a humble pokémon, right? An ordinary, worthless pokémon of Castelia's lower quarter? Right. I draw by seamitar. See the shape? It has a sharp edge on both side. The edges converge at a point. It has a glassy texture to it. A blue glow from the blade illuminated the performer, like a jarring spotlight. Watch this performance. Watch carefully as I act.

First act. A leap into the air, an ear-roar, fangs exposed, dribbling with the fluid of hunger, and longing.

Second act. Pokémon musk and warm breath can be felt as I near my target. The animal screams that sound rattle the very core of their human conscience.

Third act. The tip of the seamitar makes contact. Tension and icy fear ripples through the body faster than the warm blood can flow and relax it again. A cut is made in the flesh that never heals.

Fourth act. A trickle of blood seeps from the gash. The cries of mercy are in its infancy. The end is nigh. The sword is always hungry, and they shall never be prepared, those humans.

Fifth act. A shrill scream erupts. As if he thinks screaming will help. I feed the edge of my sword again. It is more agile and ravenous than before, primed with the taste of blood. And the tragedy has ended.

Let the glory commence.

The more the blood, the more I drooled. The saliva would always flow when I was hungry. I was hungry when the saliva always flowed. I'm always hungry. I'm ravenous. I'm begging for more—encore! _Encore! Act Six! Act Seven! Act Eight! Act Nine! Act Ten! Act Eleven! Act Twelve! Act…_

And then I stopped. I didn't feel like going on. Somehow, twelve acts seemed enough. I would be full after twelve acts. I would be content when the curtains lowered. This cursed body would be at peace, no longer tremble with stage fright restlessly at night, no longer carrying me away from here, away from there, away from everywhere, just to try to escape. Twelve acts will be enough. _But never mind that. We'll worry about that when it gets to that point._

Three humans lay dead, their hearts stopped, the spotlight faded. The city seemed a lot darker after that. But I got over it.

"S…scared…" A voice mumbled.

I couldn't tell who it was. "S…scared…" it continued.

"Scared…" My head turned hopelessly back and forth in the total darkness.

"Scared…" _Who the fuck is it?_

"Scared…" _Oh, Arceus, is…is it me? The voice…I guess it does sound sort of like me. Why am I scared? You're not scared, Mack! You're tough! You're strong. But why would I be strong? No. My knees are getting wobbly. Shit. I think…I can't—encore, Mack! Encore! What a great performance! A great act! Stupendous! Marvelous! Absolutely superb! Encore! Encore!_

My body began to tremble like mad again. I knew the blood was there; it wasn't that that made me scared, no. It's just…must've been the air. The toxic pollution was bound to kill even the best talent sooner the later. _I can't…stand up._

"OUCH!" I slipped and fell to the ground.

"Hey!" The voice called. It wasn't me. "Are you okay?" It was a young pokémon; that beautiful high-pitched voice.

"Yes. Where…where are you?"

"I'm right beside you, you moron. Can't you see?"

I turned my head back and forth to find her. "Oh, of…of course…of course I can see, what're you talking about!? No, no…I can see."

"No you can't." The little voice giggled.

"Yes I can!"

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"You've got a piece of plastic stuck over your eyes. Here, let me get it out for you." The little voice got closer to me. Her little hands reached and grabbed at the edge of the dark plastic bag, and pulled it off.

I just saw the silhouette of the snivy I had saved. Such a tiny little body. I can't remember when I was that size. Oh, Arceus. I couldn't help but smiling at her figure, even if she had bruises and scratches from being beat up.

The street light reflected off the snivy's eye, and I could see the hue of her eyes. An intense, vibrant red. She was motionless for while, so I could savor the color. They were the same color as my eyes, really. But these were different. They were much larger. Richer. Filled with wisdom beyond her years, all stuffed into those huge round pearls of hers. I let my eyelids cover by own, puny little pearls. Hers would always be the shiniest.

"Thanks so much for saving me." She finally said.

"Does it hurt? How are your wounds?" I quickly went closer to her.

"It's okay. They looked really scary, but their punches aren't really that strong."

"Why did the humans hurt you?"

"Because I was mean to him. He always punishes me when I'm bad to him. This time, he got really mad and took me to this strange place. I don't know this place. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough." I smiled. How could I refuse helping her?

"Then can you help me get around? Be my guide?"

"Sure."

"Thank you. But I'm really scared of him. He's a psychopath, y'know. I think he could be a killer, killing lots of innocent people if he had the chance. He has all these swords. He keeps them in a cabinet that if I ever try to open it, he'll spank me. But one time I saw one of his swords—this really sharp katana. It's scary. He's a—"

I interjected. "Well, I mean, we ought to give him some benefit of the doubt, I mean—"

"Do you _support_ them!?"

"I…I'm…I'm…I didn't mean it that way, but…" _Did I really say that?_

"The _bad_ guys!?"

"Well…I'm…well…I'm getting really tired. Sometimes I just spout out some random things from my past, that have absolutely no context at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. Maybe you'll understand better when you get older. But would you like to something tonight, though?"

"Let's go get some ice cream!" I could hear her giggling.

"Well…" I was really tired.

"Well…"

"Um…"

"Um…"

"Um…"

"Um—" She giggled. "Hehe. I like you. You're funny."

"So, what d'you wanna do...erm...erm..."

The snivy leaned forward. "Heehee...Nora. It's 'Nora'."

"'Nora'. Okay. Let's go get that ice cream, Nora." I was about to get up, but a loud boom stopped me. We looked up.

It started to rain really hard. The filled every nook and cranny in that dark alleyway where me and Nora were standing. My fur got soaking wet. Nora danced around in the water. She was so happy, lost in her own little world that she wouldn't talk to me. I wonder why her own little world doesn't include me. She smiled, jumped in the little puddles, as if each one a really big ocean, with a gravel beach, muddy water, and no sun. Wow. She was so little, she could imagine more than I. My entire paw kicked gently at gravel at the bottom of one of those puddles. Little drops of water flew up a couple inches, then fell back down with the rain. That made me sad.

But little Nora was happy, dancing by herself in her own great ocean, so I was happy. Even when she didn't talk to me, say a word to me, or even look at me . . . I was glad to see her. Happy.

After an hour of playing at the gravel beach with muddy water, she grew sleepy. She lay down on the floor of the alleyway, and closed her eyes.

"Hey!" I called to her. "Don't sleep out there in the rain! You'll catch cold! Come into the shade!" There was a small window awning that kept out the rain. It was too small for me to hide under, but little Nora would fit. The young can just do that kind of thing better.

She still didn't say a word, because she was tired. She walked to her shelter and smiled. So I smiled back. I don't think she saw me smile back.

Under the awning, she shook the water off her slender body, and lay down. She fell asleep very fast. All that imagining can make you tired. I should know. I sat in the rain for a while, watching her asleep, smiling. Under the safe shelter of the window awning, where it was nice and dry.

After an hour, Nora, still asleep, rolled away from the window awning and into the heavy downpour. The rain was really hard, and the water woke her up. She screamed and cried, half-asleep at the rude awakening. She groaned on at how all the water was hitting her hard, waking her from her nice, smiling sleep. That's happened to me before, these rude awakenings. I've had so many. But no one was there to save me. No one was there to save the little oshawott, the little dewott. Look at what happened. Look at the monster that was created from all those rude awakenings.

I quickly ran to the little snivy. "Shh…shh…everything's all right. Go to sleep. Go to sleep," I said. I gently pushed her back under the window awning. I lay right beside her, in the rain, at the edge of the awning. This way, she wouldn't roll away from her safe shelter again. I reached one of my strong legs over her tail also.

I had to make sure she would never leave her shelter that long, dark night that seemed to last a lifetime. Never.

* * *

(Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more.)


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

" _Now, Mack, time to practice your katana skills. Show me your best move."_

 _Yes Henry. HA! HYA! HYA!_

" _That was great, Mack. You're getting so good at the motion…I think it's time you practice with a target."_

 _Oh?_

" _Yeah. See, I've caught you…this fine fellow from the woods outside…now, hit him."_

 _Hit him?_

" _Yeah. Go on."_

 _It's an emolga. He looks really little._

" _Doesn't matter, it's fine. Now hit him."_

 _Those eyes…wait no. No. No._

 _Osha!? [Erich, is that you?]_

" _Stop delaying, and get on with it! It's tough to hold this little guy down!"_

 _Emo…emolga! [Mack? Is it you? Save me! Save me!]_

" _I don't know WHAT you two pokémon are blabbering about, but come on, Mack!"_

 _Henry! Don't grab him so tightly!_

" _Look at the pathetic creature, Mack. Look at him. Look at the scrawny little limbs, trashing around trying to break free."_

 _Emolga! [Save me, Mack!]_

 _I'm shaking, Henry…I think I'm gonna throw up!_

" _Don't let the trembling overtake you, Mack! Use it to your advantage! Take charge! Use your rock solid will to destroy!"_

 _I…I can't._

" _D'you wanna live!? Or d'you wanna die!?"_

 _EMOLGA! [Save me, PLEASE, Mack!]_

 _Henry…is that a gun!?_

" _Fate is in your hands with the katana. Don't let me shoot you first with my gun. Now, the barrel's pointed right at you…tell me! Will you live? Or will you die!?"_

 _I…_

" _AAARGH! SHIT!"_

 _Osha! Osha osha! [Run, Erich! Quickly!]_

 _Henry?_

" _Mack…that…that was a…good…hit…you knocked the pistol right out of…my hand."_

 _Henry, you're bleeding._

" _The katana…only…grazed me. I'll…be…okay."_

 _In that case, get up! Let's go inside and watch some movies._

" _Maybe later—ouch—Mack."_

 _Can you get up? Please…?_

" _Not now…Mack—oh shit, that hurt! Ouch."_

 _Get up, Henry! Now!_

" _Argh…Arceus, it's gettin' painful. Oh…yikes!"_

 _D'you wanna live? Or d'you wanna die? GET UP OR ELSE!_

" _No…argh…ooh…ouch…AAAH! FUCKING ARCEUS, THAT HURTS! DON'T MAKE ME GET UP! PLEASE, NO! MACK, DON'T! MACK, DON'T KILL ME! PUT THE GUN DOWN, I BEG OF YOU! PLEASE, MACK! MACK! Mack…"_

 _I did it._

" _Yes…you…you did, Mack. You…"_

 _I did it…!_

" _That's…"_

 _I did it!_

" _Mack? Can…ouch…can you give me…some water? Can't…I can't get up."_

 _I DID IT!_

" _Mack…"_

 _I DID IT!_

" _I can't…"_

 _I DID IT! I DID IT!_

" _I…"_

* * *

I did it.

"Nora? Wake up. It's morning."

"Mmmhh? Mmmh! It's freezing!" Nora cried, blinded by the glare of the early sun.

"Oh, Arceus…freezing…oh, Arceus…" She kept mumbling in a half slumber, eyes drooping, the chilly air keeping her awake but motionless on the cold street.

"Don't worry, dear…sleep, dear…" I whispered. My fur coat was so much fuller and thicker than it had been alone in the woods. I rolled over her quivering body, gently enveloping her with my warmth. She didn't even open her eyes in question of what happened behind her thick, heavy eyelids. Just let her eyes fall to fully shut, a smile showing she was satisfied that the warmth had reached her.

"So warm now…so warm now…" she whispered in her dreams.

And that felt awesome.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Nora regained full consciousness a couple hours later, awaking to the bright mid-morning sun. Her scales had quickly dried from the wet ground, and the bright sun began to melt the cold tension away.

"A…achoo!"

"What did I tell you," I reminded her. "You need to sleep in the shade when there's rain like this. You were sleeping on the wet ground and still almost caught a cold."

"But you were sleeping in the rain."

I chuckled, shaking the water off my wet fur and straightening out the muscle aches. "That's…that's okay. I'm older, so I can sleep in the rain. Young ones like you need to stay in the shade." That felt nice. Don't ask me why, it just did. It was nice to take of Nora. It was nice to see her happy. I was aching like crazy from sleeping out in the cold rain. When I had to suffer for _her_ …it wasn't nearly as bad. My heart was warm. I wanted to smile, just as much as I wanted to cry at every little word she said. But I wasn't happy, really. Something better. Something I'd never felt before. That's why I can't exactly explain it to you.

Nora was excited to tell me something. "I had this crazy dream, I was at this frozen ice cap wasteland place, and then someone put a really nice, warm blanket over me. All he said was, 'don't worry dear, sleep dear,' over and over again. It felt nice. What did you dream of?"

It was quiet for a while. I stared at her. She stared back.

Then I just laughed.

"What?"

Couldn't stop laughing.

"What?"

I mean, I could barely control myself!

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh…oh…hehe…it's okay. I'm…I'm all right…hehe. You'll find out later on." She must've been half asleep early that morning.

Oh, Arceus, that felt amazing.

"By the way…" she said as she got up, "…who's Henry?" Nora suddenly asked me.

"Henry?"

"You kept saying that name in your sleep. Really loud too. You must've been having a really bad nightmare. D'you know a 'Henry'?"

 _Fucking Arceus._ Those big red eyes, staring back at me. They must've had some special chemical emitting from it, because I was just stunned, my whole expression, my whole body, everything; stunned by those eyes. I drew a blank. I just couldn't think when I my eyes were set on little Nora. "…Henry? Who's Henry?"

"I see, you probably didn't know." She giggled. "Was it a bad nightmare?"

I heaved an empty sigh. "I guess it must've been, based on what you told me. I…I don't remember anything."

And boy, did I run after her. I was wicked fast. I could go from one block to the next in twenty seconds, no joke. Nora was starting to run out of breath, but I kept on going strong. I just felt so much lighter. Like the weight of a whole life was lifted off my chest.

I switched the topic. "Have you had oysters before?"

"No." She answered quite seriously.

"Then let me take you to the coast…" I must've said. She followed as I walked towards the coast. Not that I knew where I was going: I just followed the sound of the ocean. It was calling for me, the melody of the gentle waves rolling into shore. _Arceus, I love the ocean. D'you know why? You don't. Alright, I'll tell you. It was all because of…because of…because…shit. This can't be. Did I…did I…oh, what's the word…forget. Forget. Did I actually forget why? Why I Like the Ocean? Why I Like Warm? Do I like warm? I guess I do. Why am I having all these thoughts that just don't match together_? I kept racking my brain as we walked.

 _Henry. I can't recall that name._

* * *

While the main part of Castelia has a deep harbor for ships, the pokémon section was further detached from the ocean and had these shallow, sandy shoals, perfect for oysters.

Nora was lying uncomfortably on the sandbank. "I'm hungry. Can we have ice cream at the spot we passed by on the way here?"

"Ice cream?"

"Yeah. Ice cream is my favorite food. They have so many flavors."

"Well, we can stop there on the way back," I reassured her. "Now, let's look for oysters."

I sat a few feet beside her, and watched as she started scouring the reef for them. I kept thinking of what it'd be like when Nora had her ice cream later this evening. I didn't have it as a young oshawott, but I've heard of this treat before. It's creamy. Thick. It melts away if you don't eat it fast enough. My eyes drooped low, imagining what it would taste like. It felt nice to think about it, sitting in the shallow water, imagining the creamy stuff in my mouth. My claws dug into the sand, I swear I could've exploded. _Oh Arceus, Nora eyes must light up like crazy when she has this "ice cream"!_

 _CRASH!_ A wave of cold seawater extinguished all the flames of desire I had built.

I snapped back to reality, eyes frantically sweeping across the coast. I caught a glimpse of Nora, who had drifted away from me to another part of the shore, the little brat. _What is she doing!?_

"Hey!" My legs carried me to her, faster than I thought. "That's not how you look for oysters! Now do it properly! And don't leave my sight!" I could feel tears coming out as I grabbed her tightly. Couldn't control myself.

"But—"

"I don't wanna see you more than two meters away from me, y'hear?"

She trampled the ground again, the way she had been doing; like a total brat.

"Do it properly!"

"No!"

"Do it properly!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"I'm gonna count to three. Now, you better get in the water and dig those fucking oysters, or else!"

"NO!"

"Why!?"

"You said a Not-Nice word. I don't follow people who talk with unkind words!"

"Argh…get your motherfucking hands…in the water…and START DIGGING! Like _that_! Like _that_!"

"But…"

"Quiet! Do as I say!"

"I want ice cream!"

"You'll…get…ice cream…later! Now, you need to be digging and looking for oysters."

"Are you sure I'll find an oyster this way?"

"Yes. For sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"How can you be so sure?"

I was starting to tremble. "…because I am!"

"But—"

"JUST DO IT!" I cut the little brat off. "Don't talk, just do."

I was helping her: one of my paws holding tightly on her left hand, another on her right. I moved her leafy hands the correct way, controlling how deep she dug, at what angle, at what pressure. They were like strings on a puppet; that's what it felt like, anyway. I'm new to this kind of thing, really. It felt such a big task to control something so little. It's tough to live two different lives at once. I was trembling like crazy, afraid I was gonna make a mistake. That didn't help matters. It was driving me crazy. The rich butter of information, constantly bombarding me, making me sick to stomach as hour after hour passed with not a single oyster found. The water was way too polluted for even those bottom feeders.

"When will we ever find something, Mack?"

"We will, Nora, as long as you stay close to me. You just never leave my side, y'hear me? I'm going wherever you go! Now keep sifting."

"Mack…it's getting dark. Can we get some ice cream?"

"…sure."

But even though we had failed, I would say she was still pretty content as we walked away from the beach. It was still early, and she had a little spring in her steps when she walked around. Her tail didn't droop. I kept staring at her face to make sure it was okay. You can always tell: if their face is upturned, she's in a good mood. If her face is the other way round—downturned—she's in a bad mood. Her face hit the lowest when we reached the ice cream cart, parked on the asphalt street.

"Where's the ice cream?" She managed to say as her breathing grew faster and shallower.

"The ice cream cart's closed for the night, Nora."

"BUT I WANTED THE ICE CREAM CONE!" she wailed. It was almost dark; the street was quiet. There weren't any streetlights—the pokémon section of Castelia didn't have that luxury—but I could make out the faint reflection of tears as they flowed out of Nora's eyes. _Arceus, those fucking red eyes. How they seared my own with its pain, throbbing from those massive pupils._ Her voice echoed down the empty street, each reverberation her cries seemed quieter and quieter…until you almost couldn't hear her anymore.

"I didn't have anything to eat this whole day, all because of you!" She fell to the ground, exhausted. She'd been exhausted before; it wasn't like that was hard for me to see. Somehow this time when she was exhausted, it was different. Just before a young pokémon falls asleep…collapsing with exhaustion, you always would hear the sounds echo in your mind: joy, the laughter, the boundless frolicking that render the young one tired and weary, making their bed wherever they jumped and bounced on it; so carefree. Nora was quiet. She had stopped crying really loud, but the tears were still trickling out ever so slightly.

"So hungry…so hungry…"

I felt sick. I turned to a bunch of topsoil beside me to throw up, but then I'm not sure if it was topsoil, considering it pitch dark by that time. Might've even thrown up on sleeping Nora. Had no fucking idea where I was going. I pulled out my seamitar. It's electric blue glow lighted the way as I held it in front of me. I couldn't see all the way forward, but I could at least see a few feet ahead. Then the next few feet. Then the next few feet. I didn't dare turn back and shine my sword over Nora, fast asleep. _What I wake her again? What if I had thrown up on her? Arceus, I'd probably lose my balance or my grip, and give Nora to edge of my sword as the weapon slipped from my grasp. By accident. Only by accident._ I stabbed the tip of my seamitar into the hard pavement. A predictable chip formed on the surface. I let the edge come to a thick tree trunk. The blade went just as far in as I planned it to go. _Control._ That's why I love the sword. The katana. The seamitar.

My eyes shifted too far to the left. It was Nora. Her scales were clean, fortunately. Only she'd been tossing and turning: her head dangled from the edge of the curb, and into the street. I quickly ran to her. I had to set things straight, before she got hurt. I got ready my seamitar. I lowered it down to the ground. Check. I placed it a couple of inches from her. Check. I moved in. Check. The blunt side of the blade touched her tender flesh; and I paused. The soft muscle even bounced a little when I pressed on her. I couldn't move her. I mean, I could. Of course I could, I'm not a…I could push her gently away from the street; that I was capable of. But that weapon in my hand—the one I had given to by Arceus, mind you—was sickening. I could push her away from the street, just as far from the street as I planned for her to be. _Control._

I didn't have time to move away, my vomit fell on those shiny, aquamarine scales of hers. My legs lost their strength, exhausted. I've been exhausted before; it wasn't like that was hard for me to handle. Somehow this time when I was exhausted, it was different. Just before a old, fat pokémon falls asleep, collapsing with exhaustion, you always would hear the sounds echo in your mind: the depression, the sorrow, the utter despondence, that render the old one tired and weary, making their bed wherever they collapsed from tiredness; so heavy. I felt ten times heavier as I settled over the snivy's body. The control I had supported weighed down on me like a giant rock. _What if I'd just let her have the ice cream? She wouldn't have been so hungry. If I'd just let her play at the seashore? At least she'd be happy. She wouldn't be sleeping in agony, saying_

"So hungry…so hungry…" she muttered again.

"Shh…shh…go, erm, go to sleep…dear." I tried to place my warm furry body over her to keep her warm, but she got mad, and, half-asleep, pushed me away, an eye half-open.

I wasn't sure what else I could say.

"There'll be no hate…" I started singing. I can't sing very loud, but the street was so quiet my voice carried just fine. I could almost close my eyes; imagine I was in a nice, cozy room, with the young pokémon by my side, the seamitar being the soft glow of a nightlight.

"Hungry…" she mumbled.

"I shan't be late…"

"Hungry…" she mumbled again.

"To save the World."

"Hungry…"

"So, let us fight…"

"So…"

"Friends die…they might…"

"…hungry…"

"But we have won."

"So…"

"Let there be peace…"

"…hungry…"

"Let there…be sleep…"

"Mmmph…so hungry…" she said a bit louder, seeming quite irritated. She used the little strength she had to try to push me away. I gave in. I got up, but I never let her out of my reach, mind you. I always made sure the seamitar's glow was shining over her.

"Oh, fuck it!" my voice shouted, the noise echoing down the empty street. "If only I were with…"

I was silent. I tried again. "If only I were with…H…H…" My mind drew blank.

"So hungry…" I heard Nora again.

 _So hungry. So hungry. Gry. Gry. H…gry. H…gry. H..._

"H…how!?" I pushed my head against a wall. Hard. So that blood came out, and everything was a blur. I've heard that this kind of thing can hurt your brain. My mind really isn't worth saving, though. Who'd appreciate a mind that had forgotten the name I had always remembered even more strongly than my own? I _always_ remember!

"Always! Always! ALWAYS!" The street echoed again. Just to remind me how crazy I sound.

The past was a blank; what it was supposed to be. A bygone time, a mere figment of my imagination. Now is survival. Survival is good. Good is good. Good is real; the cold, empty pavement, shrouded in the black of night. This is real. I got up. Now. Now is there at instant; gone at every instant.

I left Nora to sleep. Her muttering was almost too soft to be heard: "So hungry…so hungry…". She was so strong, so brave. It made me feel good to see her so strong. I'm proud of her. I really am. _I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm sorry I made you do all those things you didn't want to do. I'm sorry I held your hand too tightly and never let you be free. I'm sorry…whatever I did to you, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!_

"…I'm sorry!" I said to her.

"Mmmph…" she groaned, rudely awakened.

"Sorry." I whispered, almost too soft to be heard. I'm sure she heard me. If I could hear her, she could hear me.

The color of my fur doesn't show well under the sword's harsh blue light. _Nora. I'm so confused._ I put it away, and stumbled my way down the street in the darkness. Not like it's any harder to see where I was going.

 _Walk back home, now. Step. Step._

 _But where is home?_

I never had control to start with, did I?


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

" _What is this, Mack? What is this?" Nora asked me as she picked it up from the floor. We were at the beach._

" _This is called an ice cream cone, Nora. See the little swirls on top?"_

" _What's an ice cream cone like?"_

" _It's a frozen treat that tastes sweet. It's very creamy and young pokémon like yourself love it."_

" _Like konpeito! Those little sugar candies!" She beamed back._

" _Yes, but ice cream's even tastier than that, Nora dear. It's made of milk."_

" _Is milk tasty?"_

" _Yes, it's very tasty."_

" _Can I eat it, can I eat it?" She jumped around._

" _Mack…? Mack…? Answer me!" She stared at me._

 _I stayed silent._

" _Mack?" She kept probing._

" _Y—no, you can't!" I shouted back, not even looking at her. You picked that ice cream from the floor, it's not clean! Go out into the water and look for some fresh oysters now. Go! Now!_

 _She went. At first I could see her deep aquamarine back skirting across the surface of the water. A little wave went past her but she still stayed afloat with no hesitation. Then she got farther out. Eventually she swam so far that the shades of blue merged together, and I couldn't see her standing at the shore. I thought I saw her in that big, bad, blue water, but perhaps it was just a star in my vision as I started panting and trembling, for no real reason. I didn't budge an inch. I couldn't, for that matter. I was frozen there._

" _Sni! Sni!" I heard a faint voice call out. Specks of foamy white appeared in the ocean from someone splashing._

" _Nora…OH ARCEUS! I'M COMING, NORA! I'LL SAVE YOU—OUCH!" I bumped into someone._

" _Hey! Watch where the fuck you're going—Mack? What're you doing out here?"_

" _Maria?" My vision was still a blur from the impact, but I could tell by the voice. That I can't miss any day._

" _What's the rush, Mack? Sit down! Relax yourself! How about—"_

" _I NEED TO GET TO MY NORA NOW!" I must've tackled her out of the way as I sprinted into the water and swam for the open ocean._

" _Nora…" her image was getting closer._

" _Sni…!" Her screams got louder._

" _Nora…!" Closer._

" _Sni…!" Louder._

" _I'm here dear. Mack's here to save you! Come, hold on to me. Come on. Nora?"_

 _She suddenly stopped flailing around. She just tread the water, ever so calmly. She turned to me. My body fell so much deeper as I stared longer. So much colder as I went deeper. So much more frozen as I became colder._

" _Those eyes…" I tried to say, but I was gurgling water and splashing so much that I couldn't hear myself.I was all tensed up, spazzing out in the water. "What is this? What is this? No. No! NO! Oh, shit, I'm drowning! I'm too heavy! Can't hold myself up! Can't! Help! Help! Nora, help me!"_

" _Nora! Nora! Where're you—glug—going!? Come back—glug—here!." She heard me. She must've heard me call as she swam so calmly to dry land as I struggled to stay afloat…I was about to drown. I closed my eyes as I let my body sink into the ocean depths. It wasn't any darker._

" _What?" I saw a light moving towards me. A strange force stopped me from sinking and lifted me to the surface, air finally flooding my water-logged passages._

 _The force spoke to me. "Are you okay—"_

" _Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" I cut her off, eyes still closed. "Oh, thank you, whoever you are! Thank you…! Thank you…"_

* * *

"Thank you…" I mumbled as I finally woke. Sun began to peek from the edge of the sky. I smiled. _Thank you, Maria. Thanks for saving me._

 _Where's the nearest phone? I have to call Maria! 0031 6553. I must call her—_

 _Nora._ She caught me by surprise. _You're still sleeping there._

Oh, fuck. Arceus never gets those eyes right, do they? Those big bulbous eyes, even when they're closed, you know that they're pearls. They way they stared at me. My whole dream turned to mush when I saw those eyes. I kissed one of her delicate eyelids. She didn't even flinch.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I left her there. She'd be first in line when the ice cream cart opened that morning.


	27. Chapter 27

(Well...you're here! Thanks for reading, and coming this far!)

Chapter 27

I met with Maria a couple of blocks down, didn't say really much and told she was gonna take me someplace nice. It was really far outside of town; must've taken two hours of walking in the cold wind to get to the spot, right at the foot of the mountains. The winter chill would pierce through my thinning fur, but Maria promised she would take me someplace warm. Over there, no one was ever cold, they'd all be nice and warm. Every time I heard that, I was propelled to take just a couple more steps. A couple more steps in the cold to get to a warm place. I even managed a little smile. Thousands of steps, we took only Arceus can say how many times Maria had to remind me of the warmth.

* * *

The place wasn't crowded as Maria thought it would be, which made her quite happy. There were only two other pokémon there: two swanna, y'know the kind with the perfect, bleach-white feathers? Really. To be at a place like this. To be at a place like a giant, waterlogged mud pit on the city outskirts. I couldn't stop staring at the two big, spending time with each other in that big, dark pit.

There they lay, partially sunk in the mire; snow-white feathers soiled by the lukewarm, heavy mud that caked on the side of their bodies. Mud and grit were exchanged as they let their beaks touch, their tongues grapple with each other. They were indistinguishable from the mud, they were so spoiled; they, who were once one with the sky, free and aloft by gentle breezes and slickened feathers, were united and grounded in the boggy earth. The sky would never officiate the two lovebirds. Not while they were soiled by the putrid substances embedded in the dirt. Not when the allure of the mire was calling: _Grit! Dirt! Mud! Let your mind be filled with it. Let it fill all the useless spaces occupied by a clear conscience and puerile thoughts. No longer shall the inhospitable sky, cold and devoid of life, infect your body so. The mud is teeming with life, mortal passions. Let it caress you as the gentle breeze, softly, lightly…_

"AAAH!" My voice called out. The weight of Maria pushed my left side deep into the mud pit. As I tried to get up she tackled me from behind and had me down in a hold, vise-like grip over my legs. I was never to leave the pile of dirt under her careful watch.

"Isn't this…" Maria could barely catch her breath as we clawed at the other, rolling around, oblivious to the pain. The blood that came out quickly disappeared in the chaos of the dark, wet peat.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I cried to her.

And then in the heat of the tussle, the side of her face brushed ever so slightly by mine. If you weren't paying attention, you couldn't even feel it. But it happened. Boy, was it intense. Mud flew into the air, legs and bodies thrashed in the pit. As she moved towards me, her warm breath reminded me of the salty ocean air, idyllic sunshine and palm trees lining the coast. Then she made contact, the sparks pouring into my muscle fibers as we touched. The delicate flesh of her cheek reminded me of soft, human flesh I had once seen, touched, savored…but now I spit at in disgust, the rich musk of Maria mixed with the wet earth so much more enticing than unnatural fragrances, perfect silk dresses, refined speech and communication. I couldn't help it.

Arceus, why did I never find the mud. All the humans kept me away from the hazard: locked high up in a penthouse suite, a house and fenced-in yard with only a little sprinkler for entertainment. The hazard was that they would lose me to the sweet, rich mud that had always been my calling. The saliva I had ejected was quickly lost in chaos of the mud pit, as if it was never there. The urine that was a mistake when sitting in Sara's brand-new sports car was now a cause for joy, for a soft smile. The exhilaration of a release that was a mistake with Victoria, wearing that fucking red silk nightdress, in her fancy four-post bed, was a cause to spasm and thrash, my body deeply intertwined with Maria's, to scream with the female samurott in unison at the moment of liberation; to howl, to moan, to cry. But the tears, like everything else, fell victim to the power of the deep, dark mud pit.

* * *

When the sun died, the lightness of the day faded, and my heavy legs would lose control, stuck in the stream of bodies, rushing into the derelict brick building. The sounds of music and the colored lights—distorted by the influence of drugs—drew the pokémon caught in the river into the building. My paws steeped in tandem with the body in front me, being able to see nothing else. And very likely, the one in front followed the body in front of him. And he the one in front. And he the one in front.

Oyster shells, their ocean musk smell, filled the room as they were stuck haphazardly, slurped with what little composure that could be maintained in one's body. The shells exploded like cannons in the swirling frenzy of light and strobe. Out and about they flew: projectiles fired into the air. " _Crak, crak,_ " they sounded. To the hard, grit-covered ground they hit. " _Thud, thud,_ " they boomed. Their convex shape, rolling about the hard floor, the grit coating their outside crunching. " _Crunch, crunch,_ " they sounded. Every step taken, the sharp edges of the oyster shells cut through my leathery paws like it was silk. Silk, as it floats; wispy, delicate…slashed into shreds by the fatal sharp edge of the oyster shells. Youth torn away. The tiny remnants of the silk, indistinguishable in the storm of blaring electronic music, their meek cries drowned in the bath of shells, grit. Nourishing oyster flesh that turned to nothing but slime when it fell to the floor.

 _What a war! What a spectacle is this!_ With every tap of my paws, the beat of the music tapped, synchronized as one. The club was under my control. The lights, the music, the motions of all the bodies, the shucked oysters, that was all I knew.

"Are you…" A female samurott pushed her way through the crowd towards me, her pearly red eyes bloodshot to an unnatural size, her gait staggered and wobbly at best.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!" I cried back to Maria. The tremulous sound that I made was Victoria's gift to me. Then I could never scream like her, the young, puerile dewott I was. Now the sordid human I was; clinging onto the female samurott for balance as I was overcome by a haze of substances. Substances corrosive to thin, feathery pieces of silk. The chemicals that numbed the pain of stepping around in the field of oyster shells, sharp pointy ends plunging into flesh with every step. _Walk to nowhere. Step. Step. Step. That's it._


	28. Chapter 28

(Thanks for making it this far! Do comment on your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy.)

Chapter 28

I hate storms. That's what it was like my second week in Castelia. I left Nora earlier that night at the quiet alleyway she usually slept in, just before the storm hit. I kept telling her to lie in the shade, but she wouldn't listen to me. I told her she better listen to me, or she was gonna get into trouble. She closed her eyes, leaning against the unshaded brick wall, refusing to move. Trouble hurt her. It made her cry as the slaps went across her face. I told her one last time to go sleep in the shade. She finally did. As she fell asleep, it began to pour. I trudged back home in the soaking rain. I was tired.

The pokémon community had offered me a place to stay in abandoned warehouse a few blocks away; there wasn't a single hotel in the Pokémon Quarter. I managed to sleep for a few hours, but got woken by loud clap of thunder in the middle of the night. The rain pounded on the flimsy metal roof, the gale shook the windows at their frames. The headache I always get from too little sleep throbbed as the sheets of rain came through. I pulled my blanket up towards me, covering my ears at the thunder, just to try to even get my eyes to close for a moment. Sweating profusely under the sheets, panting, shaking, quivering with exhaustion it was almost like liberation, the Best Thing of All, but who was I liberating with? The air? The blanket? Myself?

I know, I know. Most logical thing is to call Maria, ask her to come over and have a quick cuddle to ease the pain. But no. I know what she's gonna say. I've had trainers that are like her before. They don't care. It's not like they don't love someone, treat them well…but they don't care. Whether you were in the best hotel in the human section of Castelia, or out in the Pokémon Quarter, begging for loose change (which is pointless, by the way, since currency is not used here)…they'll feel the same either way. Pissed off, cranky…especially at three o'clock in the morning. _I can just picture her, waking up…picking up the phone…her reflection in the window…oh, Arceus, what have I gotten myself into!?_

Those eyes. Arceus, those eyes. Such a deep, velvet red, like beacons of light that pierced into my heart. The nights when she was busy, working at late at the club, were especially tough. My eyes would close for a second and there she was, with that smile on her face. _Arceus, this'll kill me, I know it. She's murderer, she really is._ Those eyes…could outshine the blade of my katana any day (Arceus, those words didn't settle well), the steel of the sword would no longer shine, in its comforting white glimmer. Long live the harsh, blood-red light in her eyes: so close, yet too far away for me to reach. Red, like the eternal sunset over the quieting city. Soon all would be dark, all would be silent. What'd I tell you? She's a fucking murderer.

Oh, but all right, if you _insist_ , I'll call her. Arceus, stop pulling my leg! I used the landline in the warehouse which, surprisingly, still worked.

"0, 0, 3, 1…6, 5, 5, 3. There."

 _Drrr. Drrr._

"What the fuck is it?" See, what did I tell you?

"Erm…can you come over here? Have a…have a chat or something?"

"For the love of Arceus, it's three in the damn morning, Mack. It better be important."

"…"

"Well…? Shoot! I haven't got the whole fucking night."

"Well…it's storming. It's storming like crazy out there. The tree branches keeping hitting my window and I think the windows are gonna break."

"Oh, Arceus…is _that_ why you're calling me? Don't be a pussy, Mack. Just pull your blanket closer in or something! I only went to bed at, like, two o'clock!"

"But—"

"Don't disturb me anymore. I'm just grateful that the rain will improve the air quality. Good bye!"

She hung up.

You could hear the echo of the receiver clicking back if you listened very, very carefully into the handset. I stood there for almost a whole minute until the sound finally went away, then I went to bed, crashing into the old spring mattress lying awkwardly in the dead center of the warehouse. That echo—the metal springs—I guess you could hear for almost three minutes. But I didn't bother to listen close. It just wasn't the same as the echo of receiver…I could still hear it, you know. But lying there, I couldn't tell if it was just my imagination or the sound was really they're, playing, really…really…softly. That sound. Arceus knows: I smiled really big, and the cold warehouse suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer when I heard the sound. Was it just my mind? Or was it a thing?

No, it wasn't a thing—something I could see…hear…touch…smell…taste…no. It was probably just all in my imagination.

But I could see it, every time her fur full and lush coat of fur would whip so subtly in the wind; her youthful, hard-candy eyes turning to face me. I could hear it in her words, however harsh they were. " _It's three in the damn morning, Mack."_ Heh. The way she scolded me in that rough, hoarse voice from being rudely awakened. How naughty of me. I could feel it when our fat, clumsy bodies would bump into each other through the narrow corridors, her soft, tender muscle against my side. I could smell the beguiling aroma of gentle, floral perfume and dense, rich animal musk that her body emitted, especially in the hot and stuffy confines of her workplace. I could taste the traces of her musk, permeated deep in the drinks and plates of oysters that she touched, and served to the customers at the lounge. The oysters always tasted different when she shucked it open with her own radiant seamitar. Arceus, were those customers lucky. They would savor for themselves the silky mouthfeel, the flavor, the freshness…and they could have a good plate of oysters while they were at it.

It was so tempting to just sink real deep in the bed I had laid, bask in those thoughts. But once my head…sunk deeper, and I looked up (I sometimes sleep on my back), the ceiling my eyes saw now sought to torment me. It punished me for my escape into my imagination…my penance was to stop my thoughts of Maria, and instead ogle at the bare, off-white ceiling of the warehouse. The present had its hold on me. Maybe the warehouse was haunted or something. Because every time I would try to rekindle the pleasant memories…my present, here, in the cold, lonely darkness of the warehouse, just made me even more confused. I'd ask why, and be dissatisfied for the blank space of reason was never filled. As I got closer…and closer…to Maria, it just didn't make sense that I drifted further and further…and that damn ceiling coming in closer…and closer…lost, in the empty, musty abyss of an abandoned warehouse that I'd been sent to, with no fucking piece of machinery that was still working, except for the phone.

I hung onto that phone through the dark hours that night, never hung up, thinking that she would call me again…and I could hear her, at least one more time. And one more time. And one more time. Until I'm old and dying, and I'll still wanna hear her…one more time. She's a murderer, I'm telling you. `Even if I didn't sleep because those vociferous insults of hers would blare in my ear the whole damn night, it didn't matter. Every word was worth it to hear: "night", "crazy", "love", "pussy". "Fuck". Funny, how when you broke it all up into individual words…it seemed quite nice. I didn't have any more trouble sleeping after that, really. My head rested on the soft pillow…I pulled the sheets in. The storm was roaring like mad. I smiled. Arceus, this was gonna be a fun night.

* * *

" _Mack…" She moaned._

" _Do you like it?" I asked her as we continued._

" _Yes… I've never felt one like that before."_

 _I closed my eyes._

" _Are you—"_

" _Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" I interjected. Love is too short to waste on words._

" _MACK! HOLD ON TO ME! Ohhhh…" Her muscles tensed and quivered, her feet clawing into the mud, her unbridled cries of ecstasy rung through the whole valley…and just as quickly, she relaxed into the mattress formed by the water-logged mud pit we lay in._

 _Everything relaxed; everything was soft again. The mud pit as we snuggled deeper into it. Our voices, sleepy and calmed. The troubles of the world that were to hit me someday, dampened by our thick, fluffy fur and Maria's soft, luscious curves._

"… _so?" I finally said._

" _That was very nice. Thanks." She smiled to me._

 _Shall we go again?_

" _Not so fast, you dirty little sea otter! Hehehe!" I went back in towards her, diving into her sweet flesh once more._

" _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A voice rang in my ear. Shit, why is he here?_

" _Look at you, Mack, all soiled and dirtied!" The voice said to me. "What have you made of yourself?"_

" _Henry! Go away!" I shouted back at the voice. "You've been dead since years ago, when you were shot by those cops!"_

" _Don't you speak like that to your trainer!"_

" _I'm older now. I can do whatever the fuck I want, Henry!"_

" _Who are you speaking to, Mack?" Maria probably asked me in the background. "There's no one here at the mud pit but the two of us."_

" _Come home, Mack." Henry called to me again. "This dirty mud pit where you lay is not for you. The young companion you have in your grasp is not who you belong to. You've been suppressing your natural instincts, Mack? What did you do, Mack? What has the dirt done to you? Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!"_

" _Henry, just leave! Please!" My vocal cords grew hoarse as I shouted back to him._

" _After the police shot me…I thought I'd never see you evolve, Mack, into a such a…well-endowed…samurott. But now I see your seamitar has lost its luster from being muddied. Your fur is clumped and irregular. Is my journey in vain? Huh?"_

 _I couldn't see his face or any part of his body, but knew he was crying. He never cried when he was alive. Thought it was just for wimps. All the liquid of indescribable substance, soaked into the earth…but the few drops that fell from Henry made the mud sink the most. I felt as his salty tears forced me skyward, staring at the hills beyond, staring at the high noon sun…and how far I was from it, stuck deep in the mud pit. Bogged-down. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking! Sinking!_

" _OH ARCEUS, I'M SINKING! NO! I'M SINKING! I TRIED SO HARD NOT TO, BUT! I'M! SINKING! I'M SINKING, DAMN IT!"_

" _Mack? What are you saying?" Maria might've said that, I wasn't paying any attention._

" _I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY HENRY, I'LL DO EVERYTHING TO FIX THIS! JUST DON'T LEAVE ME!" The deeper I sank, the farther his voice was…the heavier his salty tears weighed on my conscience._

" _Okay, Mack, this getting really weird. Exactly who are you speaking to?" Maria asked again. I ignored her._

" _You have this female samurott in the way of your goals, Mack. You're old enough now…you know what to do."_

 _I knew what to do. Did I?_

" _What…what do I do? Henry?" I asked._

" _What, have you forgotten? Remember the katana, Mack. Remember the oysters, the annoying shells that come along with them? Where do the oyster shells belong, Mack!?"_

" _The mud! The deep, dark dirty mud, Henry!" I cried, at the top of my lungs. My voice wasn't hoarse anymore._

" _How do you destroy the oyster shells, Mack!?"_

" _With the katana, Henry!" I cried, even louder._

" _Then be at it!"_

" _YEARGH!" Her neck was softer than I thought. More tender and fragile. My claws just went straight through._

" _What the fuck, Mack!? Mmmph—" Her face went into the pit. Couldn't bear her dirty sight anymore._

" _That's it Mack. Push her harder into the mud. Make her swim, Mack. Say it!"_

" _Now swim. Swim!" I commanded._

" _Mmmmph! MMMPH!" was all I heard from her._

" _Hmm, what was that, dear? Mack can't hear you, sweetheart. You're just gurgling dirt and water, now." I whispered softly to her._

" _MMMPH! MMMPH!"_

" _I can't hear you~!"_

" _Scared…scared…" I could hear from her muffled cries._

" _Forbidden Word…you asked for it. Time for Mack to give you a little spanking."_

 _SLAP!_

 _Scared…_

 _SLAP!_

 _Scared…_

 _SLAP!_

 _SLAP!_

 _SLAP!_

 _Maria wasn't scared anymore._


	29. Chapter 29

(Happy 4th of July, for my American readers! Hope you enjoy this next installment!)

Chapter 29

I woke up shaking. _What time is it? What day is it? Who am I? What am I? C'mon you idiot, you should at least know the last two questions!_ My legs pushed my groggy self to the window of the warehouse I had slept in for the night. The sun was already out—the storm had retreated. _Okay, at least that._ I rushed to a windowless corner of the warehouse, still trembling like crazy. I could barely walk straight. It was as if some had lifted me up, with strings like those on a puppet. He played with me for the night, then dropped me back down when the summer rose. My puppet-thin legs could barely support my whole weight, weak from being lifted up for so long. Arceus. Fuck all these things you do to me.

I thought maybe if I could sleep in the dark corner the trembling would stop. But I couldn't even sit still. My solid claws kept banging against the wall in my tremulous fits. _Bang. Bang. Bang. Shit, that just broke my dream. I remembered being with Maria. Yes, it was Maria, I think so, I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter anyway. Most importantly, I remember you, Henry. I remember the katana, the oyster flesh the oyster shells, how I destroyed them with my sharp claws…oh, will you come back to me in the waking hours, when I need you the most? Will you? Bring along the young oshawott as well, if you can. Please! I need you now! Come back! Come back!_

 _Knock knock._ The door to the outside sounded.

"Come in!"

A buizel opened the door. "Mack…we're gonna need this room for move practice class. Would you make sure you leave in about an hour?"

"Oh…that's all right." I stood up. "I was gonna leave anyway." I made my way to the door, and out into the streets again.

 _I don't belong here. I never did._

* * *

The bar hadn't opened yet; it was only two in the afternoon. Much of the staff was lazy to wake—sopped by the toxic brew of alcohol, flashing lights, and oyster slime—and hadn't come to clean up from the night before. Maria was the only other soul inside the dark, empty building; scraping off the vomit stains with her seamitar, wiping it clean with the antiseptic. The chairs still lay there, strewn in unpredictable positions from the festivities. One leaned on the edge of the wall, tilted. One seemed to precariously stand on a single leg. You could almost imagine all the pokémon, animated in the stillness of all the empty chairs. An inebriated snivy making a jump across the tables, only to fall a few inches short and crash into a pile of chairs. A young, confused oshawott making the balancing act in the most contorted positions. A far-too-young Seel standing on a chair, balancing more than just a ball on his nose.

I called her. "I brought you some water."

She smiled. "Thanks." She drank it in one gulp.

"How are you?"

She didn't give an answer, instead taking a seat on one of the upright chairs.

"Here, let help you clean this table you're sitting at." I sprayed a little of the cleaner on the wooden surface, and wiped the table slowly, trying to get off any traces of the night before. As I stared into the lacquer, clear drops appeared at the spot where Maria was sitting.

"What's wrong, Maria? Maria?"

"I'm getting old, Mack," she finally said, muffled by the table she leaned over. She was crying.

"You're getting old?" I took a seat beside her.

"I think you heard me the first time, damn it! Look, are you gonna help me, or sit there like a bleeding chatot!?"

"I…I…I'm sorry. It's just…"

"No, no, I'm sorry. It's just…"

"What makes you think you're getting old?" I asked her.

"It's, it's not just one thing. It never is, y'know. I'll name one thing. Like this morning, when I pulled a fresh oyster out of the fridge to ease this, fucking, hangover. I gulped it down, really fast, like you always do. I was throwing up in the toilet for thirty minutes straight. I just can't tolerate the oysters I love to eat anymore. For my stomach, it's too gritty and contaminated—"

"Oyster flesh is _not_ contaminated!" I insisted. "It's purity at its finest, it's the youth and joy of the great oceans, all bottled up, it's, a masterpiece. How dare you call it that!"

"What happened to you?" She frowned at me. "The whole of that time at the party a couple of nights ago, you were tossing shells all over the place and pouring the flesh on your face like it was rubbish or something."

"The alcohol's talking rubbish into you. It probably wasn't me; there were a whole bunch of samurotts at the rave."

"Oh yeah!? Oh yeah!? Well then listen to this, _Mack_." She had gotten out of the chair and stood up on her four legs. "You can think of oysters however you want, I really give zero fucks. You could have a whole reef of them, for all I fucking care. And I'll be laughing my silly ass off the whole, fucking, time. 'Cause every oyster shell you pry open from now on will be empty. Empty. Just a vessel for you to hold your sorry tears in and pour it down the drain. Y'know why? you wanna know why? 'Cause the best foods in the world are never the same without someone to share it with. You gotta learn that living, moving bodies near you are biggest pearls. Not the oysters in the reef. Not the ocean, not the sun, not the dark night."

I just sat there, deep in thought. _How big would this reef be, exactly?_

"Well, have some decency to at least talk to a lady! Answer me! What d'you want!? Me? Or oysters?"

"OYSTERS!" I shouted right back at her. Then it went quiet.

Maria finally spoke. "Well…fine! Eat all the fucking oysters you want! Just get the fuck out of here! Customers aren't allowed anyway." I heard as I slowly stepped away, left the building _. Arceus, she's so nice to me. And I'd thought all along she was a fucking murderer. She's actually a pretty nice young samurott, she really cares about me. I mean, I was going to do it anyway, but it was nice to have her approval._

 _She let me eat all the oysters I want._


	30. Chapter 30

(The story is almost finished. Thanks for your support and be sure to comment on your thoughts!)

Chapter 30

I'd looked down every street, every foot of shoreline, for the color aquamarine. I'd asked every pokémon in my sight: "Have you seen a snivy? Average size? Shiny color?" I thought I'd heard a cry that was like hers but I would turn to look and it was just another orphaned baby pokémon prowling the streets for their parents. It was late afternoon by the time I arrived at the most obvious place to look for Nora. I really should've looked there sooner.

The ice cream cart was busy that afternoon. The vendor was a chansey, a pokémon just like her customers. Chansey are known for their hospitality, so she was great working in such an environment, smiling back at young ones as they received their cone. She was who I needed. My tongue has held down by teeth, so that it wouldn't run wild. It almost I had fallen in love with the ice cream vendor, but that's not quite it, no. It was a desperate need for her. That I would lose my grip on the heavens and sink into that fucking ocean, deep, deep. The vendor would save me and bring up to the surface once more. I was smiling in anticipation. She would save me by telling me those comforting words in response to my question. Those words that I longed to hear. Those words that let me everything was okay—

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen such a pokémon at my ice cream stall today." I'd described Nora to her.

"What? This can't be! This—"

"Excuse me, sir, you cut the line. If you would mind steeping out of the way so people who were here first can get ice cream—"

"I don't want ice cream, I WANT NORA! NORA! NORA!"

I sprinted down the street until I was almost out of breath, my muscles buckling at the seams. So my heart wouldn't be the only part of my body suffering. It gets lonely to be the only one suffering. The world spun as I sprinted down the pavement. The world spun even more as I stopped. Perhaps I've gotten a concussion. Perhaps I'll just forget everything that happened for the last…oh, let's say ten days. Then I'd never have known Nora, never have met her, never gone through this whole fiasco of trying to help her, never have had any reason to running and screaming in the busy Pokémon Quarter like this. _What are you doing running so fast for? What's the rush? Are you crazy or something? Psst! Is he crazy or something? No, he's taken in a young pokémon. Oh, then it's okay. It's okay for him to be insane. If he's a parent, it's okay for him to be insane._

I should just have had the young one disappear before I even met her. Then I'd be no more than a madman. _Only a madman._

"N…n…" I almost forgot her name. I swear I saw a hint of blue a couple of blocks straight down. It was a deep, greenish aquamarine, it couldn't have been the sky or the water…it must've been Nora.

"N…Nora!" _That's it. Nora._ "Nora! Nora!" I called out in the streets. I went to the corner of the block, and called down both sides: "Nora! Nora!" No one answered, so I went down the next block. No one. Next crossroads. No one. Block. No one. Crossroads. No one.

No one.

But there wasn't no one, I'm wrong. Angry souls stared at me. I might've heard a "can I help you" or "what's wrong" or "who's that loony" but I can't be sure. I was looking for blue. Blue was the distinct color of Nora, the little one I had gotten so close to. Blue was all around me: the sky, the fur around my legs as I took frantic steps down the streets. Blue was hanging over my mind, a great big ocean that threatened to drown my very existence. Not worth saving the loony samurott going down the Pokémon Quarter of Castelia shouting someone's name into the air. I had all the blue I could ever wish for: blue, blue, the luscious color of Nora's smooth coat, blue, the striking color of my very own fur, then why do I feel so horrible?

"Nora!" She _must've_ heard me call.

Her eyes set on me for a second. She didn't even smile, her eyes unadorned with playful scatterings of white light—reflections. Just red, solid as the blood that had frozen in her heart. Solid as the calcified bones that had once leaped, frolicked, and cavorted with great flexibility and freedom. Did I stare for just one second? I'm not sure. I know I still stared when she turned away ever so nonchalantly, when she went beside her new human trainer. A smile painted on that canvas face of hers. She always seemed artistic to me. I knew it all along, and _you_ probably couldn't figure it out. Hmph.

Young, naïve trainers that didn't know any better would sometimes venture here and capture the multitudes of pokémon inhabiting this portion of Castelia. The borders were heavily guarded by aggressive pokémon with killer instincts, but some managed to get through. Being captured without warning was a constant danger, living in the Pokémon Quarter.

Nora still smiled at her trainer: smiled as he pet her, smiled as he gave her a berry, smiled as he shot a tranquilizer in her to make her more manageable. Manageable. A more manageable weapon to handle. More easy to wield. Easier and cheaper to maintain. She heeled by her young, clumsy trainer, then came to him at the mercy of the pokéball. I can never win the fight for her, can I? Not with human weaponry on the other side of the ring.

She wasn't coming back to me.

I scrambled through the endless streets. I really couldn't tell where I was, going so fast. Everything was a blur, and the pollution brought a heavy weight into my lungs. Exhausted, I was trudging, hobbling as old, acrid smells began to saturate inside. What hope is there for someone tortured by fumes and gases: the waste products of antiquated industry? My head was spinning. Could barely lift a leg in front of me to take the next damn step. I was vomiting some reddish liquid, but my vision was so screwed that I didn't know what it was. I _had_ to find the little one. The youth that had slithered away from me so quickly. _I haven't said all the things I wanna say to you. Stay here. Stay with me. Sit by me. Listen until I grow old and frail, and you; you stay forever young, forever playful, forever joyous, forever artistic. Let the sweet konpeito reflections in your eyes sweeten the bitter air, the cold twilight years. I have done wrong to leave you. I should've never let you go. Never. Never. NEVER! Come back here._

"Sammy! Sammy!" I called out, vision a complete blur, steps heavy and labored in thick red vomit. A few steps were enough; I fell to the ground. _Sinking…sinking…sinking…_ my mind sank along with me.

"Sammy…Sammy…" I called for the youth. The young oshawott I had betrayed. _Such a fucking rebel, you are, Mack._

" _Don't be a pussy, Mack."_ Maria.

" _You've been a bad pokémon, Mack. Get up!"_ Sara.

" _Let…GO…of me!"_ Victoria.

" _Well, hello there."_

Hello there, Henry. I missed you.

I'm sorry I left you for so long. No, Henry! I'll never desert you! No, Henry I'll never leave you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Sorry! Sorry…! I've forgotten how to use my katana, Henry. I don't have my katana, Henry. I'll find it again, Henry, if you let me. If I find it, Henry, will you teach me? Will you be my trainer again, Henry?

It was so stupid of me to leave you.

Henry.

I caught the next train back home. The journey on the way back always seems faster. It was only an ephemeral moment of darkness and solitude before the baggage car jerked to a stop at Undella Station.

Home.


	31. Chapter 31

(Congratulations on making it this far...thanks for the support! Be sure to comment on your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy.)

Chapter 31

Spring flowers were blooming on the walls of Henry's cabin, perched high in the wooded hills outside of Undella. Having fallen into disrepair and neglect, vines and ravenous caterpie made their home at the place that had once been mine, when I was a young oshawott. I was glad spring was earlier than usual; I never enjoyed the winters here. With the elevation, the house was subject to hours of blizzards, high winds, and—oh, what am I saying? The fire and hearth rug inside was plenty warm.

I quickly went inside the cabin to see if the fireplace was still intact.

I kept striking two sticks together, trying to get the brick fireplace to start. Every time flames would emerge, I'd smile a little. Then when it vanished, the corners of my mouth sank again. It was like it was Arceus' will, controlling when I'd see the fire, and when I didn't.

Arceus would only let me smile for a couple of seconds.

I threw the sticks to the other side of the room, where it was indistinguishable from the leaf litter and vines that had accumulated indoors. Some idiot must've left the door open.

I decided to lie down at the hearth rug, the place where I'd stare at the gentle flames…and dream. I lay on the dirty, mud-soaked rug inside the cabin. You could see the original floral patterns if you looked really closely.

I closed my eyes. What did I dream of? I dreamt of the katana, envisioning the fiery reflection that formed when my youthful eyes stared into it. I dreamt of lunging at my unsuspecting opponent, triumphantly calling out Arceus' venerable name I as executed my move. I dreamt of the sweet blood of victory, when the enemy was slain. Arceus, that fired me up. I let a chink of light come in through my eyelids. The fireplace was dark. So I let my eyes see dark as well, squeezing them as tightly shut as I should. I kept my eyes closed, so I could dream.

I dreamt of touching the sunshine that shone through the window. _Glass._ That's what windows are made of. I stood up, still imagining the bright light. I walked towards it.

"OUCH!" I fell to the ground, my eyes quickly popping open. It was a gray, cloudy day.

I could never find my way like this. Not with my eyes closed shut; dreaming, walking aimlessly. Sleepwalking is never good. I walked to the door, and spit some oyster grit at the doorstep before I left. Henry soul had left this place a long time ago.

It must be elsewhere.

It's so strange how the same place with the same sky, same ground, same water…could feel so different. The salty air that had once invigorated me lying in the company of Henry now turned to a bothersome odor interspersed with foul cigarette smoke. The rolling ocean waves that had led me to jump with joy as they crashed onto the shore now sickened me as the water moved up…down…up…down…again and again. The soft sand I sunk into like a sweet smelling hearth rug was now hard and itchy from rain the night before.

But at least the sun was the same. Every summer morning, it would creep above the horizon, giving a dazzling, red glow that only lasted for a few minutes, before the colors faded and gave way to the sterile white light of the midday. I saw that every morning at Nuvema as well. Why did I go so far just to see the same fucking sunrise I had at home? All those damn steps and train journeys, wasted. I left the next morning, the red glow reminding me how sick Undella Town made me feel.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

I might've seen Sara's face the night I returned home. I'm not sure. I might've heard her screams of anger and cries of worry as I rushed down the hallway and into my bedroom. I crashed straight into the soft mattress, the sheets having that really moldy smell you get from being there long enough. The room reeked of it. All the skin, fur, sweat, oil, blood, tears…conspired to make a cocktail of a slow and painful death as it choked the pure air, and left it to rest. Now I know why Maria was so scared of getting old.

I inhaled the sheets hard. They didn't smell right. They smelled like a bygone era, a terrible childhood nightmare that had shaken me apart. I couldn't find any sense of home.

The chink of light at the door grew, and a familiar voice called me.

"Mack!"

I slammed the door, putting my weight against the panel. I was panting like crazy, my eyes blinking, dancing around the room. I looked out the window. _Glass._ The grass was wet, for it had just rained. _Water_. Those were the only words I could think of as I kept leaning against the door, trembling.

Sara banged at the door in desperation. It was a nice back massage, her agony turning into my pleasure. Living off of suffering. Laughing at a bloody demise. I learned that from Henry.

And boy, did she cry. Like a little baby oyster, clinging to the side of the wooden door, hoping she won't lose her grip. Another tidal wave of tears and frantic escapes…she'll be at the mercy of the water, swept away. And be no more.

"Mack! Mack! Talk to me! Please!"

Not now, I wanted to say. _Henry's singing to me. Do you hear him? Come sing along. I'll sing with you. We'll sing together. Listen._

"There'll be no hate…" I began to sing. I'm getting better each time.

"Mack…" Sara was still on the other side of the door.

"I shan't be late…" In tune.

"Mack!"

"To save the World."

"Mack!"

"So, let us fight…"

"Mack, open the door!"

"Friends die…they might…"

"I'm begging you! Mack!"

"But we have won."

"Just say something, PLEASE!"

"Let there be peace…" I smiled.

"Mack…"

"Let there…be sleep…" My eyes fell.

"I don't wanna lose you, goddamn it! Mack! MACK!" They snapped back open. _Fucking idiot. Let's try this again, shall we? Because the little bitch won't shut up!_ I breathed in.

"I hate all you bastards…" I sang.

"I can be as late as I want…" I went on.

"…to save to your shitty world!" I started shouting. Sara was still banging at the door.

"I'll tear your guts apart…" Next line.

"Go to fucking hell, for all I care, friends of mine!" I shouted even louder.

"We won! We won! WE WON!" I heard the echo of my voice against the walls.

"Fuck peace!"

"Fuck sleep." I finally said.

My eyes fell again, even more than last time. Pretty lullabies like that can bring you to sleep. I was singing it my way. Because my way just sounded right. _Holy shit, I'm doing stuff my way! And no one can stop me! No one! I can do whatever the fuck I want, I can screw whoever the fuck I wanna screw, I can die whenever the fuck I want!_

"SLEEP! FUCK SLEEP!" I kept shouting, eyes shut. _This is my life. My life. I have it. I have my life._ Tell me, can you die from overstraining vocal cords? _Again, Mack! Mack, the great actor, the proud general, the courageous pokémon, encore! Encore!_ I sang again.

"I hate all you bastards…"

The song grew louder as her screams finally died down. I was alone. Leaning on the other side of the door. The other side was great. I could sing and scream as fucking loud as I wanted, and no one would care. No one! All the tear-jerkers, the sappy memories of infancy, they get held back, behind that impregnable door. Yeah, I was alone. Yet I never felt so together in my whole life.

* * *

 _Mack, can you hear me?_

" _Who's talking to me?"_

 _What have you found?_

" _I can't find any oysters. The ocean's all polluted by human waste. I hate humans. Just hate them."_

 _Something will come soon. Good fortunes shall come to you. You must anticipate it. Look into the water. Dig at the dirt some more. You will find something._

" _When will I find it?" I dug for hours, at every spot I could find._

" _Don't lose faith," that was all the voice would say to me._

" _Well…holy shit, there're so many oysters! Look at them!" A whole reef of them._

 _Don't!_

" _What? I'm hungry! I haven't eaten all day! Why can't I eat this whole reef of oysters?"_

 _Just do what I say, y' bastard! Take that one. The one you see poking out of the sand. Go on._

" _That…massive oyster?"_

 _Yes. Go pull it._

" _No! I'm tired!"_

 _You must! You must!_

" _No! Let me pull out a tiny oyster from this reef and have something quick to eat."_

 _CRAK!_

" _What!?" I cried out._

" _I thought the oysters would save me. Henry? Henry?" I called out._

 _Henry's dead, you moron._

" _All these oysters…the shells are empty!"_

 _I know._

" _Every single one of them…empty!"_

 _I know._

" _Empty…flesh. Empty…pearl. Empty. Empty!"_

 _I know._

" _No food for me to eat. No shiny gem for me to stare at."_

 _I know. What did I tell you. Now do as I said. The effort you are willing to make shall prove you are worthy of the giant oyster. And maybe the giant pearl._

" _Well…" I grumbled. "…since you put it that way…"_

 _I grabbed a convenient edge of the oyster shell to grab on. I began pulling._

" _It's…it's a really big oyster!"_

 _Pull it out! Be strong! You have the pearl, Mack!_

" _Where is it?"_

 _You have the pearl!_

" _Where?"_

 _You have the pearl!_

" _WHERE!?"_

 _Oh, Mack, what has this horrible world done to you. Don't believe what those people may say. Listen to me, the one that's stayed by your side all your life!_

" _Even longer than Henry?"_

 _Even longer than Henry…but you've forgotten me. Just tossed in the trash. Now listen to me. All those people: Sara, Victoria…Henry. They're all empty-souled inside. No grounding to the floor, no fiery heart blazing within. Empty shells, you hear me? You how many soulless, empty shells there are in this world? You are not one of them, and that's a fact. You refuse to be in the reef with everyone. You are special. You are free from that community that keeps them together. So, now's your chance! Open the big oyster!_

" _A…AAARGHH!"_

 _Yes! Yes! Now say it with me! Say it with me, Mack!_

" _I know there'll be a pearl. The biggest shiniest globe-sized pearl I've ever seen. It's waiting to be revealed, to be reveled to be reviled by the other hollow competitors. Empty shells can do nothing. Oyster shells can shine; only the pearl is a gem."_

 _Well said, Mack! The gem is yours! The gem is yours! Seize it! Almost there! Almost open!_

 _CRAK!_

 _There, you see. You did it._

" _I…I…don't see it…I don't see a pearl…"_

 _There is a pearl, Mack._

" _Just a mess of goopy flesh. Don't see a pearl…no pearl…"_

 _Mack…_

" _WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PEARL…!?"_

 _Mack…_

" _WHERE!?"_

 _Mack…you're sweating. You're panting. You haven't worked so hard in a long time. Just look at you. Without any reward, you've grappled with a huge oyster and opened it. Now all the Wingull and Corphish won't be hungry, thanks to you. They'll be able to feed off the flesh in that oyster for perhaps a whole week. But they couldn't have cracked it open without you. That is courage, Mack. That is a hardworking spirit. That is humility._

" _But where!? WHERE IS MY PEARL!?"_

 _Mack…you're touching it right now. You're seeing its reflection in the water. You're touching its lustrous cover. You're smelling the gentle ocean from it being coddled in warm, insulating flesh. You're tasting its cold, mineraly flavor on the surface. You're hearing it weep out the excess fluid trapped in the interstitial cracks. It is a Thing, Mack._

" _WHERE!?"_

 _It's a Thing, Mack._

" _WHAT THING!? WHO HAS IT!? WHEN DID HE TAKE IT FROM ME!? WHY DID HE TAKE IT!? WHERE IS IT!? WHERE…!? WHERE!?"_

 _Oh, Arceus…WHEN will you realize you ARE the pearl, MACK!?_

 _And the world is your oyster!?_

* * *

(I'm nearing the end of this story; thanks for the journey! Please be sure to comment on your thoughts, and hope you'll stay 'til the end!)


	33. Chapter 33

(Thanks for reading...enjoy this latest update!)

Chapter 33

My muscles were really sore. From opening that huge oyster in my dream. I tried to get up, but I realized my body was aching like crazy with fever. The oyster must've had bad flesh and all its ickiness spread through my body.

"Mack?" Sara stopped and smiled as he entered. "Morning, Mack? How did you sleep last night?"

"Samu…" I grumbled.

"Are you okay? You look sick. C'mon, we'll take you to the pokémon center. She put me away in the pokéball. She didn't even ask for my permission.

* * *

The lobby was quiet that morning, pretty much the same as last time I was here. The dent I had made in the wall from Hydro Pump still hadn't been repaired; the pokémon centers are always desperately short of funds. The couch I had seen Erich—no, Erika—jump towards was still the same. Now a couple of young trainers were sitting on there, socializing. I wanted to imagine more, but my muscles were struck by a wave of achiness and my legs refused to move, my mind refuse to think as it was seared by fever. I stayed where I was standing, next to Sara at the lobby.

"Here's a refill of the anti-pyretic medicine. Just give him plenty of rest and fluids, and he should be alright soon."

"Yes. Thank you, Nurse." We began to walk to the door.

At first, I didn't believe it when I casually turned my head—and saw him. I was even more confused when I turned my head the second time, seeing the scalchop on his chest, his baby blue tummy, that big white head. How long ago was it when I was such a tiny little thing? I struggle to remember.

He was practicing his moves with the scalchop. His cries were faint, but I could hear him say "HYA! HYA! HYA!". He licked the sharp edge of the scalchop. My eyes drooped, and a different sort of flame started to come up. It was a delicious flame. A flame that had to burn at full intensity before it could be extinguished in a fleeting moment. That little bitch, pulling at my heartstrings. He must have that effect on others too. I can't be the only one. I can't be the only one that can't stop staring at that little oshawott, sucking that little weapon that he carries with him. And his scalchop. Arceus, he was such a little whore.

"Sammy!" I cried out.

Anyway, I wasn't in pain anymore; the endorphins had taken it all away. I had to have the oshawott. I know he liked me, I know with these kind of things. When someone opens the oyster to find a pearl, they are mesmerized. He's mesmerized by me. We'd spend…nights and days of unbridled passion, then we'd go to a ceremony to seal our undying love. And it would be sealed...a whore no longer would the oshawott be. Not when he was at last liberated.

"Sammy!" I shouted again. He heard me that time. He would never forget me. Never.

I pounced on that little whore. Looking closer, he had whory eyes, you can always tell. I could hear Sara scream for help from inside the center as I began the first night of our liberation. I could hear the little whore screaming, thrashing, it all made it so much easier. Let the games begin! _Thunk._

Some Nurse Joy injected a tranquilizer on me. Considering my weight, it wasn't enough to totally knock me out, but just slow my movements and judgment. The little whore was sitting there bawling his eyes out. Should've known looks can deceive; beauty is only skin deep. My trainer must have ordered the tranquilizer. She was apologizing to the Nurse: "Thank you so much," "Sorry about him," and all that crap.

He didn't even smile back at me when I touched him. But I can swear that I saw a hint of a smile for a second; wait, no. Probably just my imagination, going wild like it always does. My mind plays tricks at me, y'know that? The nurse did smile back—at Sara, just out of courtesy—but I'm sure didn't mean it.

All these smiles are fake. All these damn smiles at me; fake. All these fucking smiles of pleasure and lust; fake. Others play tricks on me, y'know that? They draw me in with their perfect hair, silky flesh, youthful, pearly eyes, their speckled konpeito reflections, animal musk; all their sports cars, music halls, luxury penthouses, nightclubs, mud pits, ice cream stands. Then they stick it in into your brain. They fuck you good, honest mind hard. Their fluids never leave you. Until you realize now you've just got those same whory eyes as everyone else: glazed over, unable to see, unable to smell, to touch, to hear, to taste—no longer a Thing. Just one of those oblivious little creatures running around, pokémon at the behest of trainers, human trainers at the behest of Arceus and the Facts they must mindlessly obey.

Reality is repulsive. Everything bounces away from you and ten times as fast, giving way to this big, big world where all I could ever do to be heard is just the dropping of a pin. That's why I like real. It doesn't smile back at me. But I smile at reality. And that's what matters. That's also why I like cold. And dark.

The warmth of a smile is just the drop of a pin. It pricks you, maybe it feels sorta tingly for a little moment. Kind of nice. Then it bleeds. For a long time. Never stops bleeding. And you can't see where the pain's coming from because the prick is so tiny. It just bugs you. Bites at you. You start crying, trembling, going insane, and you die, no one ever knowing what in fucking hell was ever wrong with you.

"Time to go home, Mack." Sara called for me.

"What game are you playing at, Mack!?" _Great question._ "Get off the floor, and stop flailing around like that! You'll hurt someone! Now let's go!" She didn't even smile. I turned to see the Nurse working at the counter. She wasn't smiling, her eyes pored over some prescription papers. I turned around, looking for the young oshawott. _Can't find him. He must've run away._ _Oh, well. It leaves me room to dream. To dream that he's smiling so brightly, so genuinely, having such a great time. I know he's happy. I'll prove it you! I'll prove it!_

"…I'll prove it!" I started calling out, I think in my own language, so Sara didn't understand me.


	34. Chapter 34

(Only three more chapters left...can you guess what happens next? Read on to find out!)

* * *

Chapter 34

The way home was rough. Sara wasn't talking to me as we drove home in the sports car. I have no fucking idea why these convertibles have cloth roofs. Whoever thought of them are stupid as fuck. I mean, the canvas was so damn flimsy, you could swear the torrent of ice pellets falling outside were gonna pellet you any minute, piercing straight through the roof. I mean, it would only be matter of time until the unforgiving ice would rip the delicate fabric protecting the delicate, warm souls inside the car, the burning sensation pricking them, freezing them solid as they succumbed. Those warm-hearted souls, they would perish.

I wouldn't perish. Like a total fucking idiot I drenched myself in the icy rain on the way to the car, so the cold had just seeped straight through my fur. Maybe like twenty minutes in, and I wasn't even shivering anymore. I mean, can you fucking imagine it? Just sitting there, motionless like a frozen block of ice. Sara not talking to you. You not being able to say a damn word, your jaw's all frozen. Such a cold idiot.

"Oh no!" Sara shrieked as the fabric roof met its fate. Ice poured in, pulling warmth from its prey inside the car—Sara. Uniting with their kindred…the one with bone-chilling cores, icy hearts—me. How I didn't want to melt. If I melted, the death would be gone, the ice and stillness burnt away. How it felt to be colder…more dead. After all, isn't death just the absence of life?

Damn. I'm getting really good at this. For every stroke I've written down, a shot of pain fires in my back. The ice pellets. Arceus, it's almost scary, this beauty.

Thank Arceus, the sun was long gone when we drove back. The scant moonlight was reflected by the ice…a sparkling, bubbly forest of stars. How they caressed me with their touch as the car sped along the freeway. I stood up, the roof torn away, and looked from above at the road ahead. There were a whole bunch of slick spots, where those fucking road workers forgot to sprinkle salt. _Do your job, damn it!_ The moonlight's reflection made the black ice clear. Every little hazard that Sara swerved around, teeth clenched tightly, eyes squinted in utter desperation—I anticipated long before she could see it. All the dangers ahead I shouted to her amidst the noise of the sleet, pointing with my seamitar, pushing her on the shoulder to tell her where she should steer.

She didn't try to fight me or anything. She didn't even shout at me. As I told you before, she wasn't talking to me. Anyway, she was too scared to try anything funny, trying to avoid all the little slick spots, left, right, left, right. Never would danger fall on her when she grit her teeth, stared ahead compliantly, obeying every command my great seamitar decreed. _Straight ahead! Slow down! To the left!_ I would signal with the electric blue blade. I wasn't new to this anymore; I don't think I ever was. It was just a part of me, deeply ingrained, waiting to bloom. It germinated in Castelia, with Nora at the seashore. But the choking air pollution stopped it from growing anymore. Nuvema was different. The air was clear here, the oceans pure. Even the ugly ice pellets played a pretty melody if you closed your eyes and listened. In beauty, nature flourished. _My true nature shall flourish with the rest. Control. Control shall flourish! Power! Power shall flourish, towering into the sky like the mighty juniper, shadowing over all the little plants that succumb to the absence of light. Power! Power over Sara!_ She would never be in danger when my sword had a hold on her. She would never be safe…when the blade pressed in further and her skin cringed. But I guess she'd be safe _enough._ I mean, isn't safety just the absence of danger?

Arceus, take me now if I'm too good.

How liberated I felt, out here in the wasteland surrounding the freeway. And how liberated Sammy must feel now. I know the young oshawott be outside, roaming around the woods; he always loved to roam free in the natural wilderness, even in the dead of winter: the strong wind carrying his featherweight body aimlessly into the sky; skirting across frozen lakes, warmly giggling in exultation, undying exaltation to Arceus way up above as the energy of a brilliant star emanated from every humble pellet of sleet. For I had freed him, such freedom, such exultation, such exaltation, knew no bounds!

Then a blustery wind pierced through my spine…and I sank into the leather seat of the sports car, cold and icy from the draft of the broken roof. But I mean, I shouldn't be all shitty-faced. _Don't be a spoilsport!_ Sammy was free, I guess, that was something to be happy about. The chattering wind blowing mercilessly through his thin fur; slipping and falling on his face with every step across the iced-over lake, crying in helpless frustration. Undying condemnation of Arceus way up above as the pounding sleet prickled against his back.

And now everyone was cold. Sara—who _still_ wasn't talking to me—was shivering like mad in her flimsy t-shirt and fleece coat. Well, we're gonna reach home soon, where the heating's working and all. Sammy's probably gonna find some campfire left by those fucking humans…that'll keep him warm. Warm will eliminate the cold. The coldness I have fostered, that I have embodied…held over the fire, shall melt and boil away into the night sky. Heat shall trump all. But then…I am Cold. I am Cold, sitting in the pounding sleet and not batting an eye. Is heat really just the absence of Cold?

Arceus, I'm horrible.

* * *

(To be continued.)


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

I probably had been gone for too long, travelling around to Castelia and whatnot. Sara hadn't ordered fresh oysters yet, and the shucked oysters that were there had spoiled, even in the fridge. Even lost interest in the prospect of a shining pearl, that was unusual. Just stared at the outside of the shell, soiled with grit and debris from the abyss under the water. It wasn't like I was hungry or anything, though. I would've done just fine without eating a single oyster the rest of the afternoon. _But then, what do I have without the oyster? I'm just…a Formidable, sea otter pokémon, clutching his bright blue seamitar, hitting the air 'cause he doesn't have any other fucking place to destroy. Everything had collapsed already._

"STOP!" I heard a voice call out in the dead silence of the room—mine. _What is this gloom you are stricken with!? Celebrate! Spread felicitations upon the conquered land!_ No.

It was a cold and cloudy day. The heating broke down in my room, and my bed sheets were just like blocks of ice. I powered on the TV, and warm light poured out of it. It was a really nice bedroom, shampooed carpet, a soothing yellow-orange glow of a bedside lamp, so quiet and peaceful, the bed so plush and rich, piled with thick sheets, and the solid oak ceiling fan…the forlorn bachelor hung from the blade; choked by his most pricey necktie. I'd watched a couple episodes before. He would always wear that necktie at trade union dinners…all the big events. All the wealth in the hand-woven silk…tied into a harsh, crumpled knot. The bachelor was still swinging. Couldn't stop staring at the TV, listening to the sound of the man hanging from the ceiling: _Creak. Creak._

They always tell you, life is precious. It isn't something you should throw away like that. So many lives on this world. You couldn't see me, little old me who's claimed 11 human lives. That's nothing. I mean, do you know me? Like, _know_ me? Does the name Mack ring a bell? You couldn't hear the little bell, me being so far away from where you are…Arceus, I can barely hear it myself. I closed my eyes; real deep, so like I was looking at myself. I haven't felt like that in a long time, I'll say. I'm sure I had a lot of catching up to do with Me. So many things I wanna try. So many things I wanna ask Me. Arceus, I'm hungry.

Do you know the young oshawott? Like, _know_ him? Does the name Sammy ring a bell? Young, old, big, small; you can't really tell, from such a distance. We're all just one in a crowd of thousands of little baby oysters clinging on for dear life on that tiny little rock we call home…hoping to survive the next high tide. And what does he do? Arceus, up there? Just stares. Twelve hours a day, his blazing eyes beam over you, baking you to a crisp. Maybe one of the baby oysters will one day sprout a beautiful pearl. A really nice one, shiny as fuck, y'know what I mean? But we'll never know. 'Cause the next high tide'll hit, or Arceus decides to bend down just a couple inches…and BAM! They're all dead. All those little baby oysters. Young. Old. Big. Small. Pearly. Non-pearly. Dead! Dead! DEAD! DEAD!

I could feel all the life surging back in again as I shouted: "DEAD!" I heard myself scream. "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!"

I'm going insane. I'm. Going. In. Sane. "Arceus, you're a motherfucker!" I shouted. Window glass shards and sheetrock fragments flew through the room. "Please…please…" I have to do something. Something terrible. Something complex. Or maybe something simple. "A simple oyster platter." First, shuck the oysters. Take a sharp knife and place it between the two shells and…KILL THE BASTARD! BLEED! BAYONETS, ENGAGE! Just something…now! Now! "Charge, General Mack! ROAR!" I let General Mack pull me out of my trashed room and into the starry night.

I woke up the next morning. Which means I must have slept. It was too late in the day to get up and go outside, the summer heat was all full force. It was too late for anything. _What happened? Why are you too late? Think of what happened. Remember. Recall, Mack!_

 _I remember. I remember last night. The tears in the bed sheets. The dry blood on the floor. It all made sense now._ I got up, stepping on the coarse bits of debris on the floor and found myself outside in the hall. Which means I must've walked out of my bedroom door. _Focus, Mack! Don't wander off!_

I was trembling, but this time it was different. Droplets of crimson dripped in a trail as I walked, my wounds not fully healed. Blood on the ground was the wine that intoxicated me with a flame of unquenchable desire, that enriched my soul with a heart of iron strength. All the doors were white. My bedroom door. Sara's bedroom door. The door to the bathroom. You couldn't tell them apart. They all just glared at me, the bright white making me want to squint my eyes. Which didn't make sense, there was hardly any sunlight.

I just couldn't stand that white. That whiteness. Whiteness and paleness were the opposite of the dark night. At the moonrise, the night commences. At the moonset the night gives way to the day. Some of us are guilty of succumbing and melting in the hellish heat of the sun. But General Mack was different. He was smarter than that. No, he struck at night, the heavenly darkness looking down on him. The wine of humans siphoned by the blade, poured into the golden chalice, filled in a mutual toast of victory. _To victory! Victory!_

 _I could be so powerful._

The blood continued to drip in the silence. I could hear it as I trembled. _Drip. Drip._ I staggered to a door. It had that sort of glossy paint, so shiny that you could see your reflection. _The pearl awaits. The pearl awaits me to see it._ I smiled. The pearl smiled back. I opened a crack in the door. I saw Sara, still in her nightdress, brushing her hair. Which means this is Sara's room _._

My seamitar felt so much lighter as I grabbed hold of it.

I took a couple steps into her room. She said hi to me, barely separating her gaze at her vanity mirror. She was dressed in this wonderful little electric blue nightdress. You know, the silky kind that reflects the light and sizzles your eyes when you stare at it. She went into her closet, grabbing the outfit she was gonna wear for the day. She didn't seem to mind that I was just sitting there, staring as she unraveled the lace of her nightie to change; for every bit of string loosened, my heartstrings pulled more and more tightly. The thin fabric began to peel off.

It was, too hard to resist at that moment. My body was already responding accordingly. I broke out of my trance and pounced on my trainer. It was time. I was in control. The ultimate expression of power. I'd been holding back for some time; it was nice to have her just giggle cutely and pet me affectionately like an adorable animal companion…for a while. It was time she knew me as more than a little baby pearl. It was time she weighed it and savored in its value. The gentle curves, the passionate glow. I have surveyed for many years. I know the world so much more. I know the power of the katana. I know the power of a human song. I know the value of oysters. I've reached too far into the hearts of youth, only to go too far in and rupture their hearts and innards. I have seen. I have felt. I have heard. I have savored. I have smelled. So many Things that have manifested in my life; but now it is time. Time for the Best thing of All. Of All! The time of the invasion is calling. _Onward, brave general! Onward!_ I began my campaign.

"Hey gorgeous," I crooned into her ear.

"What?" She was confused. Not a hint of real interest in her eyes. I've seen a lot of humans behave like that at first. Trust me, I can handle this.

"It's your pokémon, Mack. The samurott."

I expected her to be speechless, and she was. The human speech usually freaks them out. Now let's see. What next?

"You…you…can talk?"

"Of course…" I chuckled. "But y'know something…I'm gonna make sure—that you NEVER talk!"

I know how to grab them in, hook them in to listen to you. The surprise element is key. You must make them relax a little, then cover their mouths tight with your paws. They can breathe, but they won't be making a peep anytime soon.

"Mmmph…! Mmmph!"

"What was that? I can't hear you honey. Speak more clearly." I looked out the window as I put my grip on her. _Nice day out. Maybe if just get this over and done with, I'll have time to get some ice cream or something._

"A…argh!" She managed to break free. "Get your paws off me!" She caught me off guard at that moment, I'll admit. But don't worry about me. I've dealt with all these sort of situations before. Trust me. I'll win out in the end.

"I must insist." I went closer to her. She must have smelled that lingering oyster odor in my mouth. Maybe that's what set her off. Some girls don't like that. So I pulled my face further away from her, but began to lunge in closer.

I know how to make her happy in that special way. It's working, it's working, like it has before. I could see the hint a smile on Sara's face. That smile that I'd always loved to see, even more than lover that was smiling. The smile of Liberation.

"What is this Mack? Oh! No, Mack!" She was trembling. I was trembling too. _That makes two of us._ _You too? We must be meant for each other._

"Get…off!" She put up a bit more of a fight that I was accustomed too. But I could handle it. I managed to keep her held down on the bed the whole time. Looks like there's only one option left. Last resort. But don't worry. I'm familiar with the last resort.

I know how to kill someone. I have experience. Especially with humans. Young ones. Girls. I pulled out my seamitar. A streak of electric blue as all I saw, then the heavy aura of blade vanished into the shade of her light, delicate nightdress. I felt something go as it plunged into her.

And then I didn't know anymore.

* * *

The stench of carrion was much less than it had been before, out in the fresh air. Which must mean I was outside. I had dragged her body over the floor, leaving a thick, solid trail of blood wherever she went. I set her down on the backyard, where I'd once played with the sprinkler. With Sara. Maybe the shower of water will help wash it all away. All this blood. All this age on my shoulders. I still had a trace of youth then. I remember how I laughed. _What happened? Why do you no longer have youth? Recall, Mack! Remember!_

 _I don't know._

I tried to think of Henry, but a bad taste settled in my mouth when I saw his face. I hated that smile, those perfect eyes. The companion was waiting for me, in the pool of blood, staring right back as always. The body sagged, the eyes having lost their red luster; the legs buckling at the immense weight it had to hold up. I looked deep into the still red liquid. I hated being his reflection, staring back at that senile, tired old being. I hated that katana that he told me I couldn't live without. What had he done to me?

More importantly...what had I done?

I had to take a quick walk outside, get some air. No, it wasn't that. I was already outside. I guess the stench of dying flesh, gasping for life as it rotted away, forced me to walk briskly away. Maybe get that ice cream that I was thinking of getting.

It was colder than usual, but still warm enough for me to walk on the slow-moving streets of Nuvema town. A woman was smiling at another woman as they talked with each other about the stunning weather today. A man was buying diver scallops from the fish market, hastily trying to muster all the cash from his pocket to pay for the delicacy. And then after about ten minutes I arrived at the beach. There was hardly anyone, as it was probably still too cold for humans. pokémon were there. There was…a corphish, a juvenile seel, a starmie—all water-type pokémon, as was to be expected—and…I saw him.

Sammy was there, at the beachside. Parts of his body were dressed with antiseptic and snow-white bandages. His paws dived with intent into the sea water, sifting through the muddy ground to look for shellfish. The waves were bobbing up and down in the wind, and it had rained just the night before. It wasn't favorable for finding shellfish. The young oshawott's hands continued to sift at the ground rapidly, like a magikarp flopping in the tidal flats. I impulsively look at my own body, stained with the mixed blood of all my previous encounters.

After an hour or so, I saw Sammy had finally got something. He examined it. It looked like an oyster. He smelled it. It smelled like an oyster. But it was just a rock. He wasn't sad. Just kept that neutral, obedient expression he had like when I Liberated him that time. He tossed it back into the ocean, and kept sifting.

At last he found one. He smiled a little. His tiny little hands dripped copious beads of sweat prying open the behemoth of an oyster he had caught. _Beginner's luck, probably._ After about thirty minutes or so, it finally gave way, and those pearly, dirt-brown eyes stared at the glistening flesh in the shell. A drop of sweat threatened to taint his hard-earned nourishment. But he wiped it off in time. He downed the gray flesh in one prolonged slurp of refreshment.

Then he choked. Something hard was inside the flesh. The nuisance threatened to suffocate his vulnerable, young body. The high pitched hacking went on for ten minutes, until he finally coaxed it out. His pearly dirt-brown eyes prepared for the expected. The pearl he found would be an excellent gift for one of his many friends at the beach. He pulled it out of his mouth.

It was a large piece of grit that fell in.

He didn't cry, such a strong one. I know I did. The young oshawott tossed away the grit into the ocean. Sweat continued to bead down, his arms throbbed from the hours of sifting and prying open. It was just so nice, watching his tired body reflect on his self-earned delight. So nice that it hurt. Do you know that feeling? It hurt so much, the ocean disappeared…everything just went dark.

* * *

 _WHERE IS IT? HENRY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! HELP ME FIND IT! No…Henry…help me…help me—_

" _Mack…"_

 _Ah! You can still talk! Tell me something! Tell me something! Something! Please! NOW!_

" _Heh…what a human…what a human heart in that…pokémon…"_

 _What? I can't hear you!_

"… _more human…than I ever was…"_

 _I can't hear you Henry! I can't hear you! I can't hear you! Henry! Henry? Henry!_

* * *

I hear you now.

When I woke, Sammy was still at the beach, as the sun dipped below the horizon. He sat with his new pokémon friends: the corphish, the seel, the starmie. They were all jumping in delight as they communicated. I couldn't hear what they said; only their laughs, their expressions of sympathy, their soft hugs of compassion. That is all I could see. I wanted to call out to the young oshawott, but only air came out. Clear, seaside air that had filled my lungs. I watched them leave the sandy shore and slowly walk inland, little by little drifting away from my view. My legs were tired. I didn't get up and follow them.

When the sun had finally disappeared and moon took its place, I went back home to take care of Sara's body. Those sweet lips and paralyzed expression of absolute terror, on the stone-cold concrete, was so foreign to me. So cold. I walked away from the beach and the young oshawott, the warm blood finally oozing into every fiber. That felt amazing.

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(Only one more chapter after this. Thank you all so much for reading, and glad you made it this far! Be sure to comment on your thoughts!)


	36. Chapter 36 and Afterword

Chapter 36

And so that's my story. I don't it really needs any more decoration or detailed explanation. Arceus knows it was hard enough to open this damn notebook in the first place. What twelve trainers have done to me I shall never know. What I have done to them, I'd rather forget. But what question is in that mind of yours now? I think I know. I'll tell you.

So Sara, she was trainer number twelve. "Tough love" much? Tough, like the smooth, pallid, impervious surface of the pearl? Ha, you humor me. More like "rough love." Rough, like the ragged outside of the oyster shell. It was hard to let go of her. Rough, like the sandy friction of two lustrous pearls rubbed together.

I killed them all. All twelve of those oyster shells. Because they never found the pearl. They never respected the pearl. Game over. I leave the battlefield, weapons held high in the parade of victory. Victoria, Sara were just two of them. I could tell you more, but you'd probably get bored.

Henry, my very first trainer...I killed him as well. I like to think that. I should have protected him when the police came for him that night. I should have never let him leave the cabin to see what was going on. I shouldn't have let them shoot him. Maybe the police would have liked it better if I had taken the bullet. Save the lives of so many more innocent people—namely Sara...oh, you know what I'm talking about. Doesn't bear repeating.

But why did nobody join me? Floatzel. The deerling. Sammy. Erika. Nora. Maria. All the coercing I did with my human trainer's didn't do squat for them. Would I kill them if I met them again by chance? Of course not. Pokémon deserve to be free. Even when with a trainer, free of the chains that hold them down, instead full of the strength and joy from their human companion. Never a Master. I never approve of the Master. Some trainers are ruthless Masters. Oscar was an example. Why Floatzel succumbed to a Master's whims, I shall never know. Masters I will definitely kill. Trainers I will kill. Humans I may kill. Pokémon are better alive...even if they wish they weren't.

I guess I hurt you, Sammy. It must've been agony. Oscar's deerling as well. But there was no other way I could get you to join me...and yet you didn't, at the end of the day. Why won't these pokémon see the truth? Why won't they join me in opening up the giant oyster to find the pearl? They're fine at sifting at the sandy skin of the ocean floor, looking for hours to find a mere morsel of nourishment. They're fine with reducing themselves to a level lower than even a pokémon, obeying only the calls their trainers make, catering to their every whim and fancy. And they don't bother to take a stand. They don't bother to take their own Arceus-given tools and at last seize it for their own purposes. They're fine with such a primitive life, so long as they spend it with close companions, be it pokémon or human. I'll never understand why.

To become a pokémon that rises up against it all…I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I shall be the four-star General. I _am_ the four-star General, and rightfully so. So many battles…so many moments of near hopelessness...and then victory. That rush of victory cleanses you, revitalizes you. It's slurping that delectable flesh of the humble oyster. It's at last seeing the young Oshawott happy, and not having to do anything. But that's the curse of the human, you see. No matter how many you try to gulp down, those oyster shells always pile up, then loom over you. Victory came at the price. It cost twelve bleeding souls, failed Liberations of innumerable pokémon. Does victory matter, after all that?

Of course. For I...am not a human. I am Mack, the samurott. The oyster shells are nothing more than the grit that coats its rough edges. They just get washed away by the innumerable blood and tears, until all that's left is the pearl.

Finally I am truly a pearl. A pearl in the oyster.

* * *

END

* * *

(Well, that's the end of the story. **Thank you so much for reading!** If you haven't done so already, positive or critical feedback is greatly appreciated! Below is some background on this work.)

(Oyster Shells is my first novel-length work. I had originally published a one-shot with this character around March of 2015, and decided to expand it into a larger fic, about 10,000 words, by May of 2015. From then on, I made a complete overhaul of the work, really adding content to it over the course of a year before publishing it around May of 2016.)

(Before publication, I got beta assistance from FanFiction writers **Nigel Yearning** and **KeepItM**. A million thanks to them. Both of them are very talented writers, and I encourage you to check out their stories.)

(Obviously it's hard to really come up with a conclusion as to what kind of a character Mack really is. And I kinda made it that way by design. There is no bad guy or good guy. You don't know whether to support Mack or not.)

(My question to you, the reader, is: **Do you sympathize with Mack or not?** At one side, he's a cold-blooded killer. On the other side, he's a troubled character, traumatized by his early life, and socially unaware. And perhaps at the conclusion of the story, he _has_ found closure. **What do you think? What is your interpretation on this story?** Don't be afraid to say what you think! I honestly know less about the story's meaning than you may think I do.)

 **(As a last word, be sure to comment on your thoughts...and have a wonderful day/night!)**


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